


Ghost in the Machine

by rngrdead



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:59:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 75,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2043462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rngrdead/pseuds/rngrdead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Post Black Thorn and final AtS - The PtBs screw with Spike yet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost in the Machine

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Canon is Post S7 BtVS and S5 AtS. 
> 
> Author’s Note: Don’t own the characters nor make any money from stories etc, and bow down to their original creators Joss, et al., plus all the wonderful online writers who continue to give the Buffy/Angel verse characters life.

Part 1 

Then it all went black. When the dragon took out his grandsire, Angel, Spike had temporarily buckled over in pain, but was still aware enough to see the dragon double back to attack Illyria. 

In a swirl of wet leather, game face and long sword, he placed himself in front of the former demi-god and stood to defend her to the last.

So intent on his task was he, that the talon piercing his right side went unnoticed and the fiery blast scorching his duster was a mere annoyance. But Illyria was not so distracted, admiring the chivallry of her compatriot in arms, she made a snap decision. 

The final explosion of energy that destroyed the earthly shell of Illyria and dusted Spike also saw the dragon, the throng and the surrounding buildings obliterated. And instantly Spike was floating, beyond pain, but unlike the final days in Sunnydale and the months in the crystal, he was consciously aware.

There was no doubt that he saw the dust of his own undead form hit the ground, but this time he saw it as though in a movie. His awareness able to register a 'bugger not again' moment but also sensing a second entity, one whose influence permeated his essence with a forceful message. 

He felt, rather than heard her words. "You were most brave in the final fight. And though this eventuality is unexpected, it is as I would have wished it. It seems you have been swept up in my wake, halfling. 

"Our foes perceived the threat to their power was finite, but I have come to know how to transcend the miniscule human and lesser demon minds of this millenia. The Wolf, the Ram and the Hart think they control this realm by magicks and tricks of old, but there is more, beyond human consciousness, though created by it. I have 'adapted'. It is a quality I have come to understand through our training and the entity of the body I subsumed. You have a connection to the collective conscience of this pitiful species, the humans may call it a soul or a spirit, that is of little interest to me, but to move beyond this pitiful realm, I no longer require that or a Qua'hazaad or a token for my court. I require a guide, a servant through whom freedom for my essence will bring peace in exchange for wholeness and happiness in whatever form the guide pleases as a just reward."

Despite their shared grief at the night's events, Spike was unable to discern whether it was his soul or some other conscious self that seemed to be there, yet he was aware that his 'whatever' was apparently present and inextricably tied to the ancient demon and somehow he knew to reply in the only way he was able, with a single train of thought, "You have it Blue... Hurt, learn, adapt, survive, freedom, pfft like that's ever... Hey... got it. Not much choice here. What's the plan?"

"I am unable to move on without a physical manifestation, but I observed the human Wesley with the mechanical brain. The memories of Winifred Burkle also serve me well. The 'inter-net' is a crude but rather ingenious networking of knowledge created by these underlings together and also lays them bare. I despise their rather elementary attempt at combining their intelligence into something of use, but for now it must do. Communication, it seems, is the ooze that eats itself's obsessions and, based in chaos, its strength, and the electrical impulse method of transference amuses me... also, the algorithms and calculations are far beyond the average individual human conscious capacity, though 

Winifred Burkle's capacity to interpret them and her apparent creativity and understanding of this and other systems are an advantage. She used this somewhat amusing tool to further her own research efforts over a number of dimensions, thus I have 'adapted' and we may inhabit this electrical realm independent of magical or mystical energies. In short we will endure incognito until it is time for me to take my true place."

Spike hardly had time to process fully the words registered by whatever he was now though managed to wonder how "deeper well" might fit into the picture before all went 'cerfluey' again (to quote most of the Scoobies he recollected in that split second).

Time as he knew it seemed to stand still but flashes, images and odd 'twinges' on the outer edges of... where ever he was began to flood in but it was all a little too much. He felt an odd tug, was reassured and his essence followed Illyria without any more conscious thought. Spike did as he had always done, he adapted as he was swept into her wake and entered a new world...

 

..........

 

Xander logged on to the Net with ease, blessing Willow and her insistence that he embrace the coven's Wifi once and for all. If only his return from Africa had been so seamless.

He had found his way back to the USA from the dark continent but the 'home coming' was far from the 'warm fuzzy' he had almost convinced himself he would experience. Instead he felt quite out of place. 

Everything seemed to move at lightening speed, the city streets sported neon signs, gridlock and homeless folks that those with chose to ignore and the super rich never saw. His search for meaningful work proved once again that his resume lacked the needed stamp of a College's approval, and that experience, and his few references from Rupert Giles MA(hist), the administrators of the two Somali refugee camps he had worked in, and a defunct construction company from a now non-existant Sunnydale, counted for very little.

A year, three states, a number of disastrous (one overly-possessive female and several one-night-stand male) relationships and four workplaces later, he had saved just enough for the airfare and found himself on a plane to London. Willow had met him with open arms having convinced him that if wiccan central or the new Watcher's Council could do with a carpenter, then he was their man! 

Willow had arranged the old stable house for his abode (away from giggling young wiccans and oestrogen central) and now, two months relatively settled, he was sitting in front of the ancient fireplace answering his Email, then followed habit to logon to his own livejournal and a couple of other blogs. Takingitglobal.org was a particular favourite as it allowed him to track, or at least see, the comments of his human friends across the third world. He wrote words of encouragement on a few favourites before the lights flickered and an another apparently hilarious power outage logged him off the network so he gave in an retired to the makeshift bedroom adjoining his private living space.

His bedroom was spartan in its fittings, though he was used to that, his five years in sub-Saharan Africa and the year and a half 'footloose' in the US were hardly the time for trinkets or accumulating household goods, but at least now he did feel he had a place to be where he was welcome and useful, and the time to 'regroup'. He contemplated the coming day as clothes hit the floor and he snuggled down into a bed that he knew would be warm in a short while. At least sleeping alone meant no interruptions bar occasional recurring bad dreams of friends lost.

>>>>>>

Spike was again without a physical presence but this time it could not have been more different to his other reincarnations. This time he followed the tug of Illyria's essence without sense of time or effort. He was aware of bright flashes of energy, sometimes flying with them, sometimes merely observing as they floated by, or possibly through him. There was no sense of time or of sound or sight per se, but there was definitely light and shade and he knew he was 'somewhere'. Illyria's messages seemed to permeate his thinking without intent or effort, and the urge to follow was all encompassing.

Any apparent slowing of the... whatever he was now was accompanied by occasional flashes, like scenes from a movie or a wild dream and he had the sensation of viewing a room, or was it many (?) as though viewing a large television screen. Inevitably it was a fairly sedate scene of someone staring back at him though not really 'at him', rather through him, or whatever 'he' was now. The surprising part of it all was that he could apparently still think and contemplated in the windows of calm that came and went, that if this was Hell then it wasn't so bad, and if Heaven, he decided he should feel mildly disappointed. On reflection some time later (whenever that meant) he revised his assessment, deciding that he might still be earthly bound as scenes of joy and sadness, of relative squallor and riches came and went. It was all too confusing in the end, so he simply accepted and let himself ebb and flow along with Illyria.

And then she stopped. He sensed they were close to something she wanted but had no idea what. 

"I am ready to test the human system and you will learn, underling."

Spike would have scowled and given her 'the bird' sign if he had a physical body but was mildly distracted by a scene across an office suite where a man and woman, both in a state of undress, were enthusiastically participating in some very enthusiastic interpersonal office relations.

Spike was suddenly aware of many hundreds of faces looking at him, some with amusement, others disinterest and a few in horror and somehow knew that what he and Illyria were observing was now being watched by others in the same building.

The woman on the couch looked up and straight at him then apparently screamed in dismay. He lip read "The bloody webcam is on you idiot!!" before he felt Illyria's tug once more and the confusing scene was gone.

As his essence was swept along once more he was aware of Illyria's apparent pleasure and 'heard' her, "It is as I suspected, a crude and fallible system created by lesser beings, but it is still of use. I will continue to ascertain its strengths and weaknesses until we find our target... come." 

And with that flashes and images became ever more swift and confusing. Spike registered that he should feel quite ill were he still in human form, so simply released his hold on everything and washed along with the Old One's formless power and pondered her words. What was it she was seeking? And what was she, for that matter what was he, now... really?

>>>>>>>>>

Breakfast at the coven was always a rather chaotic affair with twenty or so wiccans and family availing themselves to ample lashings of home made bread, porridge and freshly cut fruit that weighed down the ancient long table. This morning the conversation was abuzz with who was where when the power surge had hit and the latest tabloid/internet scandal that had apparently aired early that morning on the news. Xander arrived rather late but was able to pick up enough to know that he was glad he had missed most of the excitement. He had a set of bookshelves from Willow's private rooms to fix and there were still four rather rickety dining chairs that sorely needed attention, so decided to eat quickly and seek out the solitude and satisfaction of his makeshift workshop for the morning. 

Willow smiled at him as took his leave silently. He nodded to her and mouthed tell me later, snatched a last piece of toast and retreated. His old friend usually came over mid morning with a coffee, there would be time to catch up on the 'wierd goings on' then.

As he placed the first chair into the vice and began to drill a small starter hole for the screw that was to hold the back of the chair to a new upright, he began to think of some of the images in his dreams that night, of Sunnydale, of fights, triumphs and friends lost... and oddly amongst them, for the first time in many months he thought of a certain blonde vampire who had been hero to the last. He pondered thoughts of Spike for some time and resolved to ask Willow a few questions that had been bothering him for some time regards the same when she graced him with her familiar company a little later.

 

PART 2

Illyria was apparently bored or asleep or... whatever because the swirl of images and prickling sensations in his consciousness had abruptly ceased. It left Spike observing yet another spotty teenager 'SK8erZD's mundane MSN conversation with 'BeenyROX5' and as a consequence was seriously beginning to lean toward the 'this is Hell' conclusion regards his status.

The exchange was certainly not any notable intellectual discourse, indeed could hardly be described as a dialogue at all, and certainly not in any version of english he cared to recognize.

SK8erZD says:  
sup?  
BeenyROX5 says:  
nadda  
SK8erZD says:  
U?  
BeenyROX5 says:  
nu setup  
SK8erZD says:  
sweet $$?  
BeenyROX5 says:  
70 enjoi deck n trucks  
SK8erZD says:  
nice   
BeenyROX5 says:  
u at BH?  
SK8erZD says:  
nada home  
BeenyROX5 says:  
K frenz?  
SK8erZD says:  
Kelli's over  
BeenyROX5 says:  
nice U 2 a thing yet?  
SK8erZD says:  
shes cool - bit needy  
BeenyROX5 says:  
?  
SK8erZD says:  
not into sk8ing  
BeenyROX5 says:  
U into her tho  
SK8erZD says:  
yeah  
BeenyROX5 says:  
way 2 go!  
SK8erZD says:  
not that into haha  
BeenyROX5 says:  
lol   
SK8erZD says:  
CU Sat at BH?  
BeenyROX5 says:  
10 OK  
SK8erZD says:  
yeah   
.............. And so it went on and as it did Spike's ire continued to grow until he decided that were ever to get his vampire body back, soul or no soul, he would seek out the two and drain them, if only to save the world from boredom and bad breeding! He felt rather than saw the result of his indignation in a flash from his own memories of tearing into a warm neck, the fruitless struggle of the victim, and a resulting 'kick' much like that of fresh human blood straight from the vein.

Illyria was back with him instantaneously. "You breached the divide at last. It seems we might now work as one to attain our goal."

Spike gave the equivalent of a "Huh?" reply before recieving an image of his old Angelus days self draining and dropping the gored body of a hapless youth.

"This is the image those humans will have seen on their screens before your energy drained their computers and shut the connection."

"I did what? How?"

"That is of little importance now. You will improve with practice. Come, I have found some intriguing anomolies with the assistance of Winifred Burkle's memories and knowledge of this medium."

The ensuing lightening fast blur included numbers, symbols and images flashing past him too fast to really register so instead he focused on the commentary Illyria's essence was providing him... and wasn't he glad he'd spent so much time with Fred, Red and the other Scoobies before his dusty demise as babble seemed her pace and language of choice for the 'lecture'. 

"Winifred Burkle was able to research many aspectjs of her work with the aid of this inter-net. And though I am discovering this might mirror the human brain in its chaotic nature, and its linkages, it is also easy to exact its foibles, frailty and inherent weaknesses. Thus far I have only explored a small proportion and at random but it is enough. 

"According to the rather elemental human research on their own system, there is close to a trillion and a half discrete pages, around 1.5 billion users and 220 billion communications they call 'emails' sent daily. More interesting for my purposes, there are over to 1.7 million temporary black holes where information can be hidden, transfered or lost permanently or for hours and days at a time - innocently, for security, or nefarious reasons - and these by the hand of incompetent individuals, governments and/or criminals.

"Unbeknown to these humans, this network which links so many is also becoming semiconscious in its own right. It will only be a matter of time before it is capable of making its own links, processes and determine information it needs to complete sets of knowledge. As much as the humans wish to control this system, it is wonderfully beyond that now. And they have merely tinkered with the surface of its capacity. Even their best minds do not have the capacity to encompass its full potential."

Spike was becoming increasingly agitated and sensing she was about to go on, butted in, "Taa for the Discovery Channel summary Pet, but what does that have to do with you an' yours truly, the dearly almost departed?" 

Spike felt an overwhelming surge of power permeate his thought process, effectively silencing him.

"Do not interupt! Observe underling."

Spike was swept up in her wake again. Bombarded by what seemed an endless string of numbers and names he finally realized that he was looking at some sort of ledger and that the numbers were fast being shifted from one place to another.

"I seek out the dark side of this system, the links to the magical community, the knowledge and power that will lead to my restoration across dimensions. Already this electromagnetic based system has proven useful in my quest, but I do not comprehend fully the aspects of this system that seem based in human emotion and this dominant species' obsession with that they cannot define yet and yet somehow links them to a universal power."

"Winifred Burkle's research extended to dimensional shifts and aspects of other energy realms but I now also find there is a powerbase known as the international monetary system which fascinates me. Its dependance on the inter-net, on human greed, power games and the tendency of humans to organize into nation states be they gathered by subspecies (race), opportunity, location, gender or religious choosing. I am unsurprised that there is evidence that they have and are endangering their own existence (and that of other species) by altering the precarious balance affording life on this planet, not to mention the obvious repeated and as yet unsuccessful attempts the human species have made to wipe themselves out with crude but effective weaponry fueled by pathetic tribal like squabbles on a massive scale. 

"What I am unable to comprehend is their tendency toward acts of kindness, the connections between these beings and their apparent willingness for self sacrifice to benefit the whole. Their belief in one or many gods whom they have never seen seems wide spread yet has no cohesion. This..." 

Spike had finally worked through the odd sensation of being overwhelmed and silenced and suspected that, if left to her own devices, Illyria would continue the diatribe until the humans really had become a footnote in history, so he tried again. "Not wantin' to bust into your rhetorical musin's Luv, but already know all most of the above n' really not seein' how all this is helpin' us. Thought you said sommit about movin' on to your own nirvana or some such. You got a plan to take over the world, leave it behind for good, or is this just a fact findin' exercise for us to fill in the rest of eternity? Really not seein' how I fit in, 'cause gotta say, much as I'm a keen observer of the human condition, yours truly a little over the light and sound show if we're not movin' toward bein'... well, in amongst it, proper-like. Seems as though I'm all a bit irrelevent as is, bloody useless, not even a ghostie. Bloody hopeless..."

Illyria seemed to pause for a moment then Spike had the oddest sensation of being stroked and comforted somehow, "That is where you are, as usual, wrong. You have an understanding of these beings and of the dark side of the demon world. I have the capacity now to wipe out this planet using the human devised weaponry, but this would be fruitless. Rather we will find those who might assist us and determine what it is they want in return for their services. Your strength lies in understanding human motivation. You possess what these beings would call a soul. You have lived as both human and demon therefore your memories and understanding of their world gives you strength, and your capacity for what they call love, despite your demon heritage, seems to be of use to me, to us."

Spike focused on the ledger of numbers again, realizing belatedly that it was a Swiss bank account containing a very significant sum, not to mention details of precious items stored in a vault with unknown value, all under the surname 'Aurelius' at the top. His pause and mentally whispered, "Bloody hell! Could buy 'n sell half Christ'ndom with that lot!"

"I am uninterested in this thing you call Christianity, but am fascinated by the potential of buying and selling. It is apparent that even the demon world participates in using this medium 'money' to exchange for goods and services. It is my understanding that it is a simple matter to put this manufactured wealth into the human system whereby it increases in sum without the need to acquire any additional forms of recognised physical wealth such as precious metals or large stadiums."

"Well... yeah... but it's not quite that simple, Luv. Seems as though we're at a bit of a disadvantage, what with us bein' all non-corporeal 'n all."

"Yet you do understand the basic strategies and mental capacity required to do such a thing, were we to appear, as you say, corporeal."

"Done my share of dabblin' in the past, but more of a 'take what I want when I want' chap before the chip... 'cept when it was me 'n me mum, and at the beginning with 'Gelus, but then he was a right tight bastard if there ever was one." Spike was about to go on but the names on the top of the ledger caught his attention as Illyria cut in.

"Yet it seems your original name William T. B. Aurelius appears as a signatory for this collection, something I assume entitles you to access."

"So it does... bit hard to convince the ol' bank teller t' hand over the loot though innit, given that I'm a little less than even undead these days."

"Yet much of the more recent activity has been electronic in nature. It seems that Angel had already begun to utilize the 'holdings' portion of the funds. It would merely be another such transaction, though claiming the full wealth would require a physical presence, I am sure the current active sum would suffice for our immediate needs."

Spike refocused on the numbers Illyria was talking about and were he able might have raised an incredulous eyebrow, instead having to be satisfied with, "That sneaky f$#ing Irish ponce! Bankrolled his full blood boy's future and was plannin' 'is own post Black Thorn by the looks."

"The one you call Connor has indeed been paid by your Grandsire it appears, but the remainder is in your name according to this... and Winifred Burkle's memories would confirm that."

"Still comes back to the same point though Pet. Not really here am I. How'd you propose..."

"Electronic transfers are a simple matter of initially breaching the security on the account then continuing to use it to amass our fortune ready for a time we might need it to fund a 'favour' as the human's call it."

"'N breachin' security is your specialty I don't think. Swiss banks are the best and..."

"Winifred Burkle had a head for numbers and formulae. It will merely be a matter of time before I can do this, the investing I will leave to you. You have a knowledge of what motivates the humans and will see opportunities as they arise. I have other, more important aspects of this inter-net to explore."

"Well taa muchly for the confidence Pet, but need a bit more of a handle on where and what to invest in 'n the how."

"You have time."

"That I do... apparently got a boat load 'n some o' that."

With that Illyria seemed to lose interest in communicating further, so Spike immersed himself in a full investigation of just what and how much it was he was 'playing with'.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Xander was lost in thought when the newest of the coven's members cleared his throat to announce his presence. Xander let out an 'eep', dropped the chisel he was holding and spun around. "Geez Wills just about... Oh... sorry not Willow... um... Mattias right?"

The tall figure of the young man came further into the workshop, brushing back the hood of his black jacket with his left hand, "Yeah, um... Here." A cup of steaming coffee was deposited at the end of the work bench.

"Thanks. How'd you get the delivery job? Willow too busy for a visit?"

The lanky youth looked a little uncomfortable, shifted from foot to foot then shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and looked at the floor as if something particularly interesting lay there. "The Mistress thought I might... um... thought you and I should... well... talk... sort of... um..."

Xander took a moment to look properly at his unexpected visitor. The longish black hair was pushed back for the most part, an unruly lock hanging over a slim pale face with rather attractive, androgenous features. Had Xander been in anything but a rather reflective mood he would have made a flippant comment, but recognized the distinct signs of a boy needing a 'manly' chat so indicated to a solid looking side table, sat on its twin and reached over for the coffee saying simply, "Pull up a pew, time I took a load off anyway. What's up?"

Mattias sat, but kept his head down, replacing his focus on the floor with a close examination of his hands, "Mistress Willow... that is... well... most of the wiccans at the coven... It's just hard being the only guy... You know, apart from you, or when Mr Giles visits... but even then... I... just... I just feel like I don't fit really... but I'm trying really hard! And Mistress Willow says I'm doing fine... well better than fine really... and that's a problem too." 

Xander was just about to jump in with some kind words when the young man lifted to look properly at his new confidant. Xander was immediately struck by the look of utter despiration, knew from too many bitter experiences how it felt to be an outsider, but all words seemed to evaporate as Mattias lifted his head and levelled two begging crystal blue eyes framed by impossibly long lashes in the carpenter's direction. It was Xander's turn to stare at an inanimate object for a moment and focussed on his coffee. In a different setting, say a bar for same gender types, and with a beer rather than a coffee in his hand, and with ten or so years less difference in their age... He cleared his throat and dismissed all such thoughts. The boy(!) had come to him for advice and that's exactly what he would do his best to give... but... in the right light... He looked up again and could not shift the single name that had come to mind... that of an old ally who had also looked that desperate with tear filled blue eyes, more than once... Spike.

It took a deliberate sip of coffee and distinct clearing of his throat before he dared answer. "Well, we should get on just fine then, me not exactly command central when it comes to the fitting in, but I'm sure a good listener, and you know, maybe we can work out a few things together. How about you start a little further back, like... what brought you here to study in the first place?"

Mattias (Matti to his friends, of which Xander was now apparently one) visibly relaxed and began with his discovery of his magical leanings and the rather convoluted path of part discovery and experimentation in dark and light arts, part self destructiveness and the anguish that accompanied a search for his early adult identity first amongst university peers and now at the coven.

By the end of the conversation, coffee long gone and Matti proving a dab hand at the basics of carpentry, the two had resolved little, but succeeded in putting the finishing touches on the turned legs for a new coffee table. A short "I'd better get back, see you tomorrow?" was enough for Xander to feel confident that it would not be the last time the two 'worked out stuff' while working together in the shed.

 

PART 3

Spike had lost track of time, and Illyria. 

He had found an online role playing game involving vampires and demons, and put his Big Bad knowledge and new found powers of influence over the to good use, well as far as he was concerned - the players no doubt thought otherwise. He began by favouring one or other player, boosting their performance, but eventually managed to insert himself nicely in the game and temprarily took out the most powerful players with a use of his own knowledge of street fighting and personal experience of the hunt as vampire.

Eventually he bored of the caper and turned his attention to watching various soccer matches online before metaphysically wandering into the Oxford University system. Here he had become both elated and immensely frustrated by the third year English Literature students who were studying a Nineteenth Century fiction unit. In particular he was frustrated by the apparent lack of historical context reflected in many of the comments being exchanged, and was utterly offended when one writer suggested that Sir Walter Scott's "Ivanhoe" was somehow inferior to Thomas Hardy's "Far from the Madding Crowd", eventually weighing in to the online argument as WtB to argue the merits of Wilde's "Picture of Dorian Gray" and slamming Bram Stoker's "Dracula" as a misrepresentation of all things vampire. He was interrupted mid critical diatribe by a blinding flash and Illyria's dominating presence in his psyche.

Once recovered he realised he had been cut off the 'conversation'. "Bloody Hell, Blue! Was just about to make me point! Load of upstart bloody try-hard so called English students! Couldn't spell themselves out of a corner I'll wager."

"Your indignation unfounded, indeed I find it mildly annoying. My absence was necessary. I have been establishing the use of a network of the so called 'blackhole' IP addresses from which you may trade using the Aurelian funds."

"And remind me again why we want to do that, 'cause gotta say, 's all a bit of skullduggery if you ask me. We ain't gonna *buy* our way out of this mess... and sure as heck not got a lot of use for cash in me current form... hardly purchase a body on Ebay now can I, less it's a used one from the W&H spare parts lot, 'n frankly you'd never know what'd turn up with that even if they were offerin'."

"You are too short sighted halfbreed. This is about power. In this human domain, power is money and for us to have leverage. We require a steady large cash flow and increasing asset base in the markets of the world to then press those who are able to assist us whilst avoiding any interference by the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart as they operate in this realm. I will focus my attention on the dilemma that is our current form and determine the solution. While you will accrue, without detection, the necessary funds for a time we may need them."

"Right, so me agenda is to make the odd squillion until told otherwise."

"Correct. I will lead you to the numeric position and provide you with the codes you need. You will also note the pathway to the concealed trading 'company' that I have created to enable trading." Spike had the odd sensation of being dragged to a different 'place' and blessed the Angelus of old for his foresight in teaching the fledgling William the ins and outs of their fortune. He became aware of a pleasantly, *very* large sum freely available to trade with, provided he was able to access it. Seconds later Illyria again assailed his consciousness. "I assume you can manipulate the medium to provide your signature on this release document. Here are the associated codes you will need."

The codes were entered and 'William T.B. Aurelius' was required to 'sign' the authorization. Fortunately it seemed that Angel had left Spike's identity on the account, and after some effort a slight shift in the fabric that was Spike's awareness signalled that he was able to access the money and begin his allocated task.

Illyria seemed satisfied and he felt her presence diminish as he turned his attention to the complex market statistics he would need to grapple with, grumbling to himself, "Don't mean an ex-vamp still can't 'ave a little fun on the side. ::sigh:: Still... reckon a little precious metals tradin' to start, obviously got plenty of time on me hands for playin' later." 

>>>>>>>>>

It had been almost a year since Xander had moved to the coven and things had settled into quite a routine. Breakfast was had after most of the group had eaten, after which he returned to his workshop to begin the tasks of the day.

His 'hubby for hire' repair work had given way to a steady stream of original pieces of furniture that were now being offered for sale online and brought in a tidy sum. As a direct consequence he had also engaged in a number of masterclasses in woodturning, brass work and classic inlay, and had him constantly sourcing materials from far and wide to enhance his more creative works. He also found that the local art community quickly embraced him as one of their own after his series of functional but unusual set of 'one off' occasional tables, featuring hand carved images of 'creatures of the night', were displayed at their annual festival.

Sales after the festival had increased dramatically and Matti was now a constant companion in the afternoons, the young man proving good company and a dab hand at french polishing - a very welcome skill with the more 'exclusive' pieces. The addition of an industrial ventilation unit to extract dust and safer electrical system in the workshop (all funded by Xander's income) were necessary additions. 

There was a steady stream of young wiccans happy to admire his work, chat to Matti and generally 'hang out'. Xander always felt welcome at the dining table and certainly enjoyed a healthy level of respect, yet Xander still felt somewhat disconnected from... people really, and it wasn't just the fact that Willow had been away a lot lately. He still chatted to her online, certainly enjoyed the occasional chatty email from Dawn, and an even less frequent brief phonecall with Giles.

His behaviour must have caught the attention of Mistress Yollanda, either that or Willow had given her a heads up at some point, because the High Wiccan made a point of visiting him in the workshop in the early evening, just prior to the summer Solstice celebrations. He assumed it was to check on the final arrangements for the evening of festivities for which Xander was providing his services as barman, but the friendly conversation quickly turned to deeper issues. 

Yollanda was in her early fifties with salt and pepper grey hair and a sparkle in her dark eyes that spelt wisdom with just a dash of mischief. Xander had often thought that she would have been quite the beauty in her more 'hippie days', and still had a habit of wearing lose flowing hand dyed clothes in rainbow colours. She had an ease about her that exuded an inner peace that drew people in and allowed honest   
reflection should that be needed.

 

The conversation began easily enough, touching on the matters of the solstice day - it would run much as any other celebration, Xander's duties simple and the atmosphere relaxed. Xander had continued with his hand sanding of his latest art piece (a small male sitting figure of a winged faerie, or was it an angel, suitable for one leg of a coffee table).

... "All in hand Mistress. But you didn't wander this far to just talk about that? What's really on your mind? If it's about the girls wandering down here then I think that's to see Matti, who is doing a great job by the way. And they certainly don't interupt."

"No no... nothing of that ilk."

"Oh... Look if it's my contributions, I can up that to twenty perc..."

"Not at all! The coven coffers have enjoyed the extra cash flow you bring in. No this is about *you* Xander, more particularly your happiness here."

"Did Willow...?"

"Willow has told me some of your history yes, but only as it pertains to your stay here and your shared Sunnydale experiences. She also alerted me to the fact that you gave away much of your Sunnydale emergency fund compensation to your African charity, something which is both generous and to be applauded. No the reason for my inquiry is that you seem less than happy, driven yes but content, not so much.

"You are a popular member of our community and give much to all you encounter but there is also a measure of melancholy that I wonder you might share. Sometimes a burden shared is one lightened."

Xander stopped what he was doing and looked hard at the motherly figure who was now sitting at the end of his work bench. He saw nothing but friendly concern on Yollanda's face.   
"I guess you're right... And please don't take this the wrong way... um... I... I guess I just don't feel like I really fit anywhere, not that I ever have, not completely." Xander paused for a moment and lifted his eye patch enough to slip a finger under and rub the slightly irritated socket, a habit that was as reflexive as it was necessary when he was feeling 'out of sorts'. "It just seems like I always end up the outsider somehow and most of the time that's fine, it's just that lately... I guess I sort of had the idea that as you get older things become clearer, that I could find someone who likes me just as I am... and by like I mean a... well I guess I'm trying to say..." He rubbed his eye again, this time over the patch then took up his sanding again as he talked a little of his family, the loss of his parents, of Willow and he as children and later, of his experiences in Africa, then finally, very briefly of his decision to come to the coven.

The Mistress leaned forward a little and put a calm hand over his. "I understand the feeling Alexander, more than you might know, and I too have loved and lost many times over. You may feel at odds with the world now, but you continue to give to it, to others, in so many ways and you are deeply respected for your many contributions. I believe it is acceptance you seek and that can only come from within.

"Thoughts, memories, of the past are only words and images in your head as are your musings on the future. If you accept that and only work with the ones that are useful all the while living in the moment, you may approach the inner peace you seek. And remember we all eventually draw to us those we need most when the time is right, and without conscious thought. I believe in the wisdom of Gaia and am sure you will feel her full blessings when you least expect it. I thank you for your candid sharing Alexander, and will take my leave now, but please feel free to join me for a quiet supper anytime you are inclined. My door is always open."

Xander did feel oddly more at ease after the Mistress departed and found himself thinking of the latter days of Sunnydale with a detached fondness he had not really expected. Thoughts of his workmates, the last days of the Scoobies, of Anya, his parents and... Spike. And eventually sent a quiet prayer to whoever might be listening that those lost to him and/or the world might have found themselves in a better place.

......... 

 

PART 4

Spike had been focusing his attentions on the Middle East again, in particular the United Arab Emirates. Like all of his true generation all things 'exotic' held a certain appeal and for now that appeal was to watch countries that the British Empire (in all her heady dominant past) had annexed or written off thrive.

Despite initially trading on Western markets, his list of investments of late, had leaned toward China, India and other emerging nations. Combined with Illyria's occassional interruptions, or as he was increasingly aware, rather demanding insistance that he turn his attention to this or that company, he was quickly able to respond to market trends. 

Illyria's interest in the 'human folly' had a distinctive Machiavellian flavour and her ability to infiltrate the email systems of governments and larger conglomerates had her geninely fascinated by trends. Her view was still one of the malevolent ex-god, interested in intrigue and now the general patterns in the online behaviour of wealthy rulers of failing companies when collapse or major takeovers were becoming apparent. She delighted in having discovered (with a little help from human research) that internal email traffic at the top level of such organizations increased tenfold as a large company began to faulter, or was genuinely threatened by a competitor, and similar trends seen in countries facing governmental collapse or all out war. 

Spike for his part merely responded to her 'tip offs' by dutifully shifting investments at her delighted reports but was fast becoming tired of her insistance of the stupidity of the earth bound creatures and their obvious self interest and lack of insight but in the months that had past had also become skilled in keeping his thoughts relatively hidden from her. A task made all the easier when he realised that for all her perceived 'omnipotence', her understanding of the virtues of those same creatures really was limited to self interest.

Spike had long known that once an investment was secured there was little to be gained by 'tinkerin' around the edges' unless there was a particular reason. He had already resigned himself to the idea that their obtaining of sufficient wealth would take a while. Granted Illyria's insights had been useful and certainly her sequestering of a number of umbrella companies residing in tax havens allowed Spike's trading to 'fly under the radar' as it were and saw a steady stream of income legitimately flow into the originating Swiss Aurelian accounts without question.

For the first few months there had been a certain thrill in fast accumulating wealth, but something of William's sensibilities still existed within the essence that was Spike. Old, hard learned lessons of   
the evils of class snobbery, the excesses of the idle rich, and of overconfidence borne of arrogance, prejudice and fast money niggled whenever Illyria demanded that he push their money around as though   
there was no human cost involved. 

Accompanying his somewhat conflicted moral compass, there was also the inner William who was coming up for a hundred and sixty years of existence. A William/Spike who had and still genuinely loved art, writing, poetry, music and all things of the 'today', whenever and wherever that might happen to be, and who had a sense of honour and loyalty that extended well beyond the simplistic excuse of 'a soul'.

Of late it was this inner sensibility that was becoming ever more dominant. His interest in all things online role playing had waned after he had dominated in several Warcraft games, made several million virtual dollars in Second Life and bored of a number of other wannabe blood thirsty individuals in online games. He still occasionally commmented on one or other rather esoteric (and some borderline eccentric) lists ranging from classical literature study to interest groups for all things occult but even that was becoming less and less attractive. 

He found some solace in just 'floating', accessing a server that was on 'down time' and ceasing to be for a while in the digital blackness. 

It was during one of these rest times that Illyria sought him out, jolting him from his place of nothing by a blast of energy that had him reeling.

"Bloody Hell Blue! Give a chap some warnin'..."

"I believe I have finally cracked the security on the Global coven network."

"Well bully for you... Would have figured that would be a doddle after your little adventures into corporate America and MI5."

"It is true that I have been able to merge with those human concerns relatively easily. But my interest in the coven communications has more to do with their ability to ward their electronic signals with magic, a   
rather unique system and most sophisticated, allowing them to shield their dialogue from other magical influences, such as the Wolf, Ram and Hart. To date you have merely dabbled in monetary gains for the purpose of us purchasing favours as we need them, now we must also explore and enlist the aid of those in the magical community sympathetic to our cause... without undue attention. 

"Fred knew of one called Willow who is mentioned several times in correspondance. It seems she is powerful and may be sympathetic to my cause..."

"Ehh hemm... That would be *our* cause your high and mightyness, and you might care to know that I reckon Red would be just the ticket. If anyone could pull us from this mess she would."

"You also know of this witch?"

"Worked along side her in Sunnyhell... right sweetheart when she wasn't tryin' to destroy the planet, or save it. Last I heard she was in Brazil."

"That may be so, though the Email trace is convoluted. I shall attempt to establish contact with her using an anonymous monicker. It is unwise to alert even the covens of our status until their service is secured. I charge you with the task of learning as much as possible of the Berkshire coven as there seems to be a festival of some importance being held there attracting a large number of magical beings on the summer solstice..."

Spike was tiring of being ordered around by the sharer of his virtual thought space, so cut off the conversation with a curt, "Berkshire coven, got it. If that's all Highness, got some serious down time to catch up on." 

Spike felt decidedly out of sorts courtesy of the conversation so as soon as he felt her gone, he turned his attention to some online porn, grumbling that at least *someone* was having some fun.

..........

The preparations for the inter-coven solstice festivities was in full swing and though Xander was on the periphery of the general running of any such events there was still a steady stream of young wiccans attending his workshop with a variety of minor requests for his skills.

He had realised some months ago that the reason for the girls attending to the requests with quite such intense personal interest was undoubtedly that Matti was nearly always at his side in the afternoons, preferring to spend most of his spare time in the workshop. Xander was happy for the company of the young man, and enjoyed watching the girls as they giggled, flirted a little and did their best to engage Matti's full attention.

For his part Matti was charming, friendly and enjoyed being the centre of attention, particularly after he learned (or rather directly quizzed) Xander about the older man's preference for male rather than female love interests. The discussion had been frank and non threatening for the late teen who was questioning his own leanings, and seemed to settle some of the tension that had permeated the first few afternoons 'in the shed'. 

Xander had eventually decided to come clean to Matti, stating that he had no designs on any of the women (or men) at the coven or in the village, that his relationship with Willow was one of deep mature friendship, and that he had come to his own decision   
regards his staunchly single status and sexual preference rather late in the piece, and only after many baulked starts and a number of disasterous partnerings. 

Matti's realization that his own fascination with all things 'boy on boy' was one of curiosity rather than any lifestyle choice seemed to clear the air and certainly seemed to have allowed him to gain greater   
confidence within the coven community in general. And Xander had been amused to note that the previously dyed jetblack 'emo-mop' had given way to Matti's natural dark blonde curls being trimmed to a far more flattering style that had his enthusiastic classmates begging to plat it with flowers for the coming celebrations.

With Mistress Yollanda's encouragement, Xander had also qualified as a teacher of woodwork through the technical college in Reading, and taken on some teaching duties at the local village community house, providing popular courses in furniture making, handyman renovation and 'wood art'. All in all he felt a little more like he belonged though still shyed away from any discussion of his Sunnydale days, even when pushed by curious coven members (especially after the biennial visit from Watcher 'expert lecturer' Andrew whose stories of the heady last days of the Scoobies seemed to become more fantastical as each year passed). 

With the delivery of the last Maypole and departure of his helpers of the day, Xander turned his attention to tidying up the tools of trade then retreated to the quiet comfort of his small abode, relieved that the addition of a small microwave allowed dinner to be taken privately on this occasion.

He roughly cut a chunk of coven-made sourdough bread and waited for the typical 'ding' signalling that soup was ready before settling in front of his laptop to catch up with messages and enjoy the peace and quiet of the evening.

Willow was en route back to England for the solstice, and apparently Giles was coming down from London for the event also. Xander sent Willow a quick note wishing her a safe trip before adding a "Kudos, well done" to Dawn's enthusiastic entry regards her current work at a   
fashion magazine in New York (pictures of 'celebs I interviewed this week' included on her facebook page). 

Xander took a break to collect his digital camera, make a coffee then returned to the real task of the evening, uploading photos of his latest wood carving series to his own website. The more tedious part of the task being to put accurate sizings and ptions, 'interesting' titles and prices under each image. 

He had been pleased with the public response to his 'Avian series', enjoying the attention and extra cash after a local art show named his 'Ladyhawk' piece as 'Best Sculpture' prize winner.

His more recent pieces were leaning toward depicting the male torso, well toned casual stances, more often than not leaning against a tree or wall with face obsured. Jaw lines were easy but he struggled with more than that. He'd asked a rather embarrassed Matti to pose for him a couple of times but found that he sought a certain quality in his male faces that seemed to ellude and for the most part that was fine. As carved table legs or feature figurines framing a mirror there was little need for absolute accuracy, yet an old memory seemed to niggle.

Xander finished at the computer, flicked on a CD of classical music he had loaned from Mistress Yollanda and pulled out a sketch he had been working on for his latest figure. The soft cedar wood had seemed to 'want' to become a male in a long coat, leaning casually against a headstone, hand up as though to... light a cigarette. 

Xander found himself sadly thinking of a certain dusted vampire, another fallen comrade in arms, and realised that it was that rather perfect face he wanted so badly to depict, to no avail.

Perhaps that was the face he sought for his other figures too, the defined features, the irreverent smirk, the impossibly handsome, timeless... After several more attempts he tore out the page of the sketch book and flung it toward the bin in the corner. He knew Andrew had a video of Spike (he'd watched a few highly edited pieces on the Watcher's facebook page) but was reluctant to source those as it brought up a whole lot of unwanted memories and feelings that he just did not want to address for the sake of a sulpture. 

Reluctantly he packed up and resolved instead to ask Willow if she had any digital images of Spike somewhere when she returned to the coven and there was some context to the question.

He logged on again, this time to simply lookup some 'decent' male pornography but found even that uninteresting and went to bed with images of a perfect male blond vampire in various states of undress and welcomed the oblivion of sleep.

 

Part 5

Spike had been monitoring the Berkshire coven email 'as instructed' for over a month, but had made no contact. What was there to say? "Hi Willow, It's me Spike, I'm back *again*... Yup, now a Big Bad sprite of the digital world. Just wonderin' if you and the ladies could organize a body for me." It just wouldn't be right. So, despite the fast growing wealth in the Aurelian account courtesy of his own business acumen and Illyria's occasional insights, he had found himself becoming more and more depressed with the current situation, and increasingly chose the oblivious state of occupying a down time server. 

He found he was able to set his mind to registering important 'shifts' in the fabric that was his reality, much as a mother is tuned to odd noises or her baby (or any baby) crying, acting depending on tone of cry circumstance. In the digital realm this meant bing 'pinged' if there was a significant rise or fall in markets that required attention, or an opportunity to invest previously unexamined. It also meant that when correspondence from Willow was sent to any coven member the activity was noted and observed.   
And it was just such a correspondence, two weeks before the solstice, that had Spike intrigued enough to become fully aware once more.

It was an Email, direct from Willow to *Xander*, the boy, now man that had fought alongside them in Sunnydale. It was the same boy who had been given to the unsouled Spike by his grandsire as a ruse; who had hated and yet worked with the chipped Spike after Buffy died; who had left his vengeance demon girlfriend at the alter; the brave man who had defended others at the expense of his own eye against Caleb; and who had obviously gone on to 'other things' before joining Willow at the coven, and now was a fast becoming recognized artist. Spike was intrigued.

It wasn't just the fact of Xander being there, indeed in a strange sort of a way he would have expected it, the 'boy' had always gravitated toward what he knew - as any rational Sunnydale 'Scoobie' and friend of Willow would - rather it was the candid admissions that had Spike transfixed. In Xander's reply referred to his gay status, his successes at the coven and obvious talent for creativity, and... his fond memories of his work years in Sunnydale... and of friends lost, including Spike, the vampire.

It was the latter that had him thrown a little. He read end of the passage over again "...Wonder what he would make of me dreaming about him so often. You did say something last time about a final fight in LA. Not sure why, but can't help thinking he might have survived that too - well except for the no contact. Do you have any pictures of him? You'll know why when you see my latest pieces, just need to get the face kind of right, . I know you probably think I'm obsessing or just too lonely. Anyway looking forward to a proper Willow hug Saturday. Go the yellow crayon - Your Xander shaped friend." 

Spike couldn't shake thoughts of the boy or the idea that he was being thought of, so did an old trick. He used the webcam and the fact that Xander was logged on to look into the room where the computer was. 

It was obviously night time and the room fairly dark but he could make out Xander moving around then sitting back down at the computer. He must have been alone, judging by the lack of shirt and absence of eye patch, but the boy, no man, looked good. A bit paler than Spike remembered - a good few months in England would do that to pretty much anyone - but fit and mature compared to the 'pup' of Sunnydale. It had Spike wondering if he could make contact of some sort but the computer logged off before he was able to form any sort of plan, so he too shifted to downtime. It was probably for the best, after all it was Willow he was really seeking help from, still there was no harm keeping an eye on the boy... 

>>>>>>>>>>>>

The return of Willow was rather overshadowed by the general influx of wiccans from all over England and Europe for celebrations marking the Summer Solstice. But one coven auxiliary member of the coven was particularly pleased.

Willow was met and greeted by Mistress Yollanda, and brought up to speed as to the proceedings for the following day then politely took her leave, and her bags, and made her way to Xander's workshop (her own room allocated to a visiting Mistress, and friend). 

She was met by the sound of whirring machinery and music coming from a rather overtaxed small radio in the corner.   
Xander was engrossed in sanding the top of his latest table but Matti was facing the door. He smiled broadly at her and tapped Xander who flicked off the power and stood with a slight groan."What's up?"

Matti gestured toward the door, then removed his safety goggles and said, "Visitor," before nodding, saying "Good afternoon Mistress" and leaving the old friends to catch up. Everyone in the coven knew that the two were childhood friends and had a long history. The younger members spinning wild tales of unrequited love that Matti knew to be 'so not of the truth' via his discussions with Xander over time, but knew to keep his silence.

Xander felt his heart skip a beat, he really had missed her. "Hey you?!"

Willow smiled back easily, "Hey yourself... Got a place at the inn for a tired uber-witch?"

"So long as you're happy with... geez.. and I did have the whole whitty alliteration thing ready."

"Yeah but you did say alliteration, that's a plus right."

Willow grinned and was soon caught up in a warm hug, despite Xander's safety glasses and thick, sawdust covered leather gloves.

After some moments Willow broke the hold, "OK Mister... I'm all 'intrigued gal'. Show me your latest stuff. Yollanda said you are quite the flavour of the local art scene."

What followed was a tour of Xander's latest works, culminating in an online expose of his works past and most recently sold. A cup of lemongrass and ginger tea later and the two were comfortably relaxed in what passed for Xander's living room when the topic of discussion inevitably turned to all things 'Sunnydale-strange'.

"So the message was from 'a friend'?"

"That's all it said?"

"Well, yeah? That and they were interested in the new series."

"New series of what?"

"My 'creatures of the night' pieces, but that's the weirdness. I haven't even finished most of them. It's like this guy has access to... well it's just of the weird."

"Are you sure it's a guy?"

"Not really but the tone is, I don't know... sort of guyish."

"Well, Have you talked to anyone about what you're doing?"

"I guess... Just like to know if anyone's... you know... tapping into my Email or something... And..." Xander blushed profusely then looked Willow square in the eye, "Just rather know if the Mistress Yollanda monitors my Net account... you know... um... Do you think...?"

Willow smiled knowingly then patted Xander on the knee, "I'll check it in the morning, but I'm sure it's all above board. You probably just told a student at college about your new stuff and they are all enthusiastic... And I'll search out the images of Spike you wanted, but for now? This one tired wiccan needs her sleep... Night..."

The wind picked up just as Willow went to bed and Xander stood at the door of his small abode. Black clouds rolled in from the west, though the weather predictions may have been for fine conditions the next day, the storm seemed to be somewhat appropriate.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Spike was jolted from his place of rest by the presence of Illyria once more. He had been composing a rather melancholy piece of prose 'in his head' noting his own missing of various physical sensations, but shifted focus swiftly. "Bloody Hell Blue! No need to blast a bloke just to get 'is attention."

"You have made contact with the coven."

"Yes 'n no. Just wrote a note to one of Willow's friends - former Scoobie livin' on the coven turf. Did it incognito mind, 'n before you ask, nothin' to do with current predicament, just curious."

"It is well then. We cannot afford to alert those who may seek us. You may contact the one called Willow during the festivities known as the Solstice as there will be much magicks and correspondence to mask our presence."

"Ho *may* I now... And what exactly do you propose I say? Two non-beings needin' a couple of bodies on permanent loan?"

"You may wish corporeal existence on this plane but I will transfer to a realm in which my influence is absolute, away from this ooze that eats itself. And though I surmise it may not be necessary, due to the foibles of humans, you can offer payment. It is my estimation that we have access to over ten million Euro immediately."

"Sounds like a plan, though I'm not that convinced money is what Red will want, 'n still not so sure how Red can help. Don't fancy bein' stuck in some borrowed corpse, if ya don't mind, 'n spendin' the rest of me days as sentient dust in some urn not exactly my idea of a step up either."

"If this Willow Rosenberg is as good as Winifred Burkle remembers then your concerns are unfounded, but I do understand your concern and it is a simple matter of choosing a suitable vessel and altering the object at a molecular level - quite within the realms of even human science though they have only begun to comprehend and explain the atomic states in fractal terms. As with all human endeavour it has taken them some time to accept chaos for what it is - a perfection that they do not understand. As with all fractal forms invariant sets hold the key, and if altered in their most elemental form, will allow a new state to exist. This holds for that the humans have named atoms just as it does with the stars. With the right conditions I can assist this Willow in matters of altering..."

"Messin' with atoms smacks of a certain Third Reich 'n Hiroshima. Frankly rather stay as I am if bein' a real boy means blowin' up the earth as we know it!"

"Imbecile. It is not in my interests to destroy this pitiful planet. I shall not attempt to explain my part in this further, all you need know is it will require exceptional majicks to provide your essence with a means to inhabit and animate the form of your choosing. You must simply make contact with this Willow and convince this witch and her contacts to assist our cause. That is all." Illyria's presence withdrew, leaving Spike to ponder the how and exactly what to say to 'the witch'.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The following day saw all hands on deck as far as Xander and the coven was concerned. Tables to be carried, drinks to be served and people to be directed, and all the while Xander’s computer was idle. 

The quiet moments after the festivities saw Willow checking Xander’s computer for viruses and spyware (all negative) before downloading a half dozen images of Spike onto Xander’s machine, after which two old friends enjoyed a proper ‘catch up’ with associated red wine and home made soup and bread. 

Despite Xander’s fatigue at the end of the very full day, he ventured into his workshop following Willow excusing herself and heading to bed. He pulled the three quarters finished sculpture of a leather coat clad vampire and took it back to his lounge room. Firing up one image of Spike on his computer, he stared hard at first it then the unfinished face and pulled out a simple small chisel to begin work.

An hour later his computer pinged to indicate a message, something which broke his concentration, had him reading the MSN screen twice and racing to rouse Willow.

“Harris, you nit. Nose ain’t that big. Now get the witch up – we need to talk. S.” 

 

Part 6

 

A rather disheveled Willow joined Xander at the computer a few minutes later. With the webcam only able to see what was in range, Spike could make out the ‘bed hair’ and hastily thrown on pink toweling dressing gown but missed the associated fluffy rabbit slippers. Regardless he felt a distinct sense of relief as Willow typed “Spike is that you?”

“Well it ain’t bloody Santa Clause is it!”

“But we thought you were dead… or dusted. Giles and the Watcher’s council said, well, that there were reports of a huge battle in LA and no survivors...”

“Couldn’t sort a piss up in a brewery that lot. But yeah, ‘nother big battle to the death ‘n the like… but yours truly… still here… well sort of here. Thing is I, that is we, Illyria ‘n I, sort of need a bit of a leg up in the ‘real’ department.”

“Illyria? She survived too? But how? And where are you now?”

“That’s just the thing innit. Here in as much as I’m in the computer. Harris’s computer for the moment, ‘n gotta say, boy might’ve come out, but ‘is tastes are still a might vanilla.”

Willow huffed a little and pursed her lips in frustration but caught Xander rolling his good eye and making an expression that shifted from slight annoyance to decidedly embarrassed, so continued, “OK, Mister I-can-spy-on-Xander guy – and don’t think I won’t find out how you got through our firewall… But where are you typing *from*?”

“Here you daft bint! Been floatin’ around in the bloody electrical ether for… well not really sure how long. Back to the ol’ can’t touch, feel or do bloody anything of note bar mess about with the virtual.”

“So… Let’s get this straight. You are *in* this computer, *in* the network?”

“Well obviously.”

“And you can talk to Xander…us directly.”

“To quote you Scoobies… Again with the obvious!” 

“Well… How?”

“How ‘m I bloody well supposed to know! Just here is all.”

“So is Angel…?”

“No.” There was a pause before the next words came up, “Grandsire went out in a blaze of glory, as to be expected. Hero to the last, even signed away his Shanshu t’ do it.” Another pause then, “Wes ‘n Gunn bought it as well. Not sure about green jeans. Figure Lorne scarpered after it all went down, told Angel he would.”

“So what happened when you…?”

“Illyria did something when we were goin’ down for the last time. One minute I’m standin’ in front of her with a bloody great gapin’ hole in me side, and next thing I know I’m watchin’ my own dust settle and find that the Powers-that-screw-you have decided it ain’t my time – again. Only this time it’s not even as a ghostie… Illyria somehow pulled me with her so now just some random bit of energy able to affect a digital world, half of which I’d rather not really know about.”

Spike was aware of a distinct pause and saw a look of part disbelief and part befuddlement pass between Xander and Willow.

“Look…You two goin’ to help me be a real boy or whatever, or is this little chat just goin’ nowhere?”

“I’m just not sure how we can help Spike. I can contact Giles, perhaps he or Andrew could work out what’s going on.”

“No. No one but you, well you two, obviously. Best we keep it quiet for now, Wolfram and Hart Senior Partners would still have it in for Illyria ‘n I, I reckon, seemings as we took out their Black Thorn. Anyway, Watchers not really fans at the best of times. We start too much natterin’ and word’s sure to travel to the wrong places. Besides, Illyria ‘n her Fred memories seem to have come up with somethin’ just need someone on the real plane to kick it off so to speak.”

“Fred’s there too?”

“Just said ‘her memories’ not her. Far as I know Illyria got access to a lot of that when… well you probably know the rest. Real sweetheart Fred, sorely missed for what it’s worth.”

“Spike if she, Illyria, changed you both, then why can’t she shift you back?”

“Not sure, something to do about needin’ a whole lot more mojo than she can muster as we are now, not to mention she’s none to keen on being in this world. Figure she likes the power of her original state of affairs so wants that or out. For me it’s pretty much just that there’s no original form to go back to… though she reckons she has that licked. Kept on about shifting atoms or some such.”

“Is she there now Spike? You know, can I maybe talk to her?”

“Well that’s the thing see. She seems able to contact me but buggered if it works the other way around. Not that I’ve tried all that hard. Prefer me marbles (or whatever I’ve got to think with now) remain unscrambled, she’s a right pain in the proverbial when she does grace me with her presence. Anyway seems as though she wants me to do the contacting.”

Spike waited and watched the room, though was frustrated that he could not hear what was being said.

“So Wills, you really think it’s Spike?”

“Well do you?”

“It’s just so weird. I mean the guy goes out in a ball of flame then comes back then dusted again only to come back as what? Some kind of computer virus or something.”

“I don’t think he’s a virus, I think his essence is just kind of stuck in the internet somewhere, maybe as electromagnetic energy or something. Xan there’s so much we don’t know about transference of energies except that it doesn’t disappear, just changes into something else. Even the magic we use draws from the earth for its energy to act but this is amazing don’t you think? And poor Spike! Can you imagine just floating around like that? Thank goodness he found your computer to talk through.”

“Yeah well. Again with the weirdness. 

“When did you say that message about your new series came in? That’s probably the indicator for the initial contact.” Willow noted Xander looking decidedly worried at that suggestion. It was not so much the message itself, but the other things Xander had been looking at on the evening of contact that had him blushing.

“It was only a couple of weeks ago.”

“But the LA battle was over a year ago. That means he’s been… Xan we have to help him!”

Xander stared first at Willow then back at the computer screen, “Okay with the agreeing to help, but…”

Before Xander had finished the thought, Willow was already typing again, “Spike, I’ll do some research from this end. It’s going to be… well tricky is probably the understatement of the year, but if you can get Illyria to pass on anything in the mean time that would be great. I’ll make sure Xan has the computer on about this time every day while I’m here that way you can be sure that one of us will be online.”

Willow began typing again and much to Spike’s relief there was a simple, “We’ll do what we can Spike. Just be here about this time each day and if you can, see if Illyria is able to give me something to work with. OK?”

“Knew I could count on you Red… thanks. And tell Harris I’ll be checking to see if he’s fixed me proboscis on that there carvin’ of his, yeah?”

Willow giggled a little, “No problem. Night Spike.”

“Night… Over and out or whatnot.”

The screen registered a logoff and Willow sat back looking somewhat worried.

“I really don’t know where to start… I mean, I didn’t want to say that to Spike but… it’s just…”

“Don’t know about you but I’m pretty done in. How about a Xander hot chocolate special and we work on it tomorrow? Well, after the festivities again I guess.”

………….

After the logoff Spike felt a combination of slight relief that contact had been made, sadness that the conversation was over and intense loneliness. Somehow even the fact that he was remembered, and spoken to as though he was still *there*, *here*, reminded him of all the things that he really wasn’t. all the things he missed so dearly and not just the physical.

The being cared about was somehow the most hurtful feeling of all. The idea that he had friends who not only remembered him but who genuinely wanted to help. He tried to distract himself with a quick look into his investment profile, then jumped into an online game but finally sought solace in a melancholy read of some of Yates’, before seeking the solitude and nothingness of a server on downtime. 

...............

Xander hardly saw Willow the following day. A makeshift market had been set up in the coven grounds which served as ‘break out’ area for those attending and gave local fresh producers, craftspeople (including some of Xander’s smaller works at one stall), buskers, purveyors of alternative remedies, and various magic goods sellers to mix with curious members of the public welcomed in until late afternoon.

At the end of the day and despite the invitation to join the general throng of wiccans for dinner and praise to the moon, Xander made an excuse to finish his bar duties early in preference to returning to the cabin logging on as soon as he was able, almost hopeful that Spike, or ‘S’, had left a message. It was not to be.

Xander remembered all the times he had felt alone, isolated, ‘lost’ even, and found himself *wishing* the computer to register a note from a… missed friend. He left a simple note on his ‘Facebook’, “Drinks served, waiting for S.” 

With no reply and despite the hour with Willow still absent, Xander turned to something he did know. He fired up the images of Spike in their last months, the ones Andrew had so enthusiastically documented. Then he took a lamp and highlighted the current carving and deliberately angled the webcam so it caught every detail on a live stream.

The nose was perfected, the hand gesture defined, the… and then there was a ping indicating a message on his MSN.

Xander immediately stopped what he was doing and raced for the computer.

It was Buffy, inquiring how Dawn was coping at the Solstice festivities. He was almost annoyed.

“Yup. Hey Buff, she’s doin’ fine. Wils and the Lady D still at the Solstice Supper. Let you know when they come in OK?”

“Sure. You not there?”

“Got an exhibition coming up and wiccan 101 – do that for the rest of the year. You well?”

“Yup… Tell Dawn we’ll pick her up at the airport Friday.” 

“You and the Immortal? That’s been a while now!”

“Yeah well.Giles still doesn’t approve.”

“You always were into older guys with a dark past. He’s probably just jealous.”

“LOL… Anyway, say Hi to everyone – hugs B.”

Xander pushed away his chair and was just about to return to sanding the edges off the latest carving when the computer pinged again.

“Harris? You finished gabbin’ to her ladyship I see.”

“Hey Spike”

“Be a pet ‘n set up the camera, can’t see a bloody thing.”

“Oh… oops, hang on.” Xander quickly picked up the small webcam, plugged it in and placed it on the top of a speaker so it pointed into the room before settling back into his chair. “Is that OK?”

“Taa. How’s the party goin’? Red still at the festivities?”

“Good and yes.”

“She had time to do any investigatin’ for yours the almost dearly departed?”

“Not really – it’s pretty busy here. But I know she’s been thinking about it. She did say something this morning about talking to Mistress Yollanda, you know, after she’s kind of sussed out what is going on.”

“Yeah well…”

“Any word from Illyria?”

“Nothing. Still that’s not unusual. You’ll be the first to know.”

“So… what have you been, I don’t know… doing since last night?”

“Sweet bugger all. Mucked about a bit with investments, checked out some games, the usual.”

“Investments?”

“Yeah well have to do somethin’ to keep a chap interested ‘n Illyria seemed to think we might need it. Frankly I reckon it’s just her way of challenging herself with all the security and whatnot, although lately it’s pretty much mine to tinker with.”

“So what… like bank accounts and things?? But Spike that’s illegal!”

“Not when it’s mine in the first place! ‘M not a thief. Anyway, not like they’re gonna catch on if they wanted to.”

“But how do *you* have money? I mean I know Angel did but…”

“Grandsire’s dusted ‘member?! Anyway it’s family funds of old ‘n all that, set up here in Europe a good while back. Not touchin’ anythin’ of Angel’s from the states. Not stupid enough to mess with any blood money from Wolfram and Hart days even if there was anythin’ there.”

“Oh. Sorry. I just…”

“’S OK. Nice someone still thinks I’m the Big Bad I guess. Nope… all’s sort of above board. Anyway it’s all passwords ‘n electronic transactions these days.” There was a slight pause, “You finished me face on that carvin’ yet?”

“No not really, but I have sanded back the nose and you were right, it does look a bit better.”

“Should bloody well hope so. Show us it here would ya?”

Xander still wasn’t too sure what Spike could or couldn’t see in the rather poorly lit living room, so flicked on an extra lamp and held the vampire figurine up in front of the webcam.

Spike admired the handy work as it was turned slowly for his benefit. The folds of the coat were delicately rendered and the boots were particularly good.

Xander put the figure off to the side and resumed typing, “The face is still not finished but I’ve got a couple of photos from Willow and... well anyway.”

“Got a real talent Harris. Nice to see you’re puttin’ it to good use.” Spike was still typing as he saw Xander turn as Willow entered the room.

“I got away as soon as I could Xan. Is Spike…?”

“Yup here in the… well not flesh exactly… but you know what I mean.”

“Any news from Illyria?”

“Seems she’s still to make contact. Look I need coffee. Can you maybe just chat to him for a minute?”

“Of course. Here I brought you a piece of the celebration cake, and don’t worry, it’s from the chocolate one – I knew the carrot cake wasn’t really your style.”

Xander took the proffered cake and wandered over to the kitchenette while Willow settled in front of the computer and typed, “Hey Mister, it’s Willow.”

“C’n see that. But taa for the heads up.”

“So Xan tells me you haven’t heard from Illyria yet.”

“’fraid not. Anything your end – well apart from the usual witchy business that is?”

“Well, I did do a bit of thinking and I guess I have a few basic questions that might help when Illyria does make contact. But Spike, I’m heading back to Brazil at the end of this month, not that that is a really big deal, but if I’m here it would just be easier I guess.”

“Appreciate you’re on a timeline. Just not much I can do to hurry Blue. Guess it’s just nice to have someone to give a toss that I’m still around.”

“Lots of ‘toss’ giving here. I’ve kind of signaled to Mistress Yollanda that there’s something important I need to work on with her once things calm down around here again. I didn’t really go into it though.” Willow looked around to see Xander standing behind her, coffee in hand, munching on the chocolate cake she had brought. He smiled a slightly choclatey grin and nodded toward the screen indicating she should continue.

“Spike, I was just wondering how you write exactly… You know is it machine code sort of ‘Matrixy’ or…”

“Don’t rightly know. More just think things and they come up. Illyria’s the one who gets me into places with passwords and such.”

“So don’t see things that are encrypted?”

“Not exactly, just get a bit of fuzz before the password goes in then bingo, all clear… Best be askin’ her the why’s and wherefores. Know I choose to… well sort of kip I s’pose, in places where the computers are idlin’. Just to take a break. C’n get bloody borin’ in here, not ta mention lonely.”

Willow looked saddened by that thought, then typed, “Do you have any… you know … physical type of sensations at all?”

“Not apart from a bit of light and sound show when Blue’s in the buildin’. Even then can’t rightly say if it’s physical exactly. But if you’re talkin’ about touch, smell, that sort of thing, not a twinge…a big nothin’ worse than even when I was hauntin’ Angel ‘n crew.”

Willow simply wrote, “Oh… Spike I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault is it. Anyway I’ll be off. No point crampin’ your two’s style if there’s aught to report now is there.”

“We can leave the computer on… you know in case Illyria comes back… or you just want to sort of… be here.”

“’preciate that Red, but I’ll take me leave until her ladyship calls in. ‘night.”

“Goodnight Spike, from Xander as well.”

Willow couldn’t be sure Spike was really gone but there were no more messages so she turned her attention to Xander who had pulled up a second chair and reached over for the statuette he had left on the bench in sight of the webcam.

“You’ve done more work on it?”

“Not much really, just fixed the nose… Spike liked it I think. He kind of… gave me a real compliment which is a bit of the weird.”

“Did he say much else?”

“Not really, but… kind of sounds lonely don’t you think?”

“Even if I can’t find out enough while I’m here, it’s good you two can chat. At least if he’s online regularly we’ll have more of a chance to… I don’t know. It will buy us some time and Illyria will eventually make contact I suppose.” Willow grabbed her long, now white hair at the nape of her neck, twisted and wound it then pushed the whole lot into a bun at the back using a pencil from the table as a makeshift clasp while still staring at the last note from Spike.

“Oh and Buff dropped a line before. She’s going to pick up Dawn Friday from the airport, can you remind me to tell her tomorrow. She said Hi.”

“OK… Xan is it OK if I do some research for a few minutes? Or do you need the Net?”

“Hey go for it. Me Mr tired guy anyway. Think I’ll turn in. You OK for everything else.”

“Sure… and Xan? We will find a way to help Spike I just know it.”

“Think he does too. Thanks Wills… for being here… ‘night.” With that Xander stood, placed the statuette on the sideboard, kissed her hair gently and made for the tiny bathroom to change for bed.

Willow turned her attention to researching electromagnetic energy, in particular any crossovers with her magical studies. It certainly seemed plausible that Illyria had managed something that had not previously occurred in their earthly dimension, but until she made direct contact, Willow really was struggling. One thing was certain. If Illyria truly did have access to Fred’s intellect and memories then the depth and breadth of her knowledge in the science of what had gone on was certainly out of Willow’s league. She wanted to at least have the basics.

……………..

The next two days were busy with the Solstice gathering of Covens, but followed much the same pattern as the previous one, Xander worked the bar and Willow participated in various healing circles, guided two ‘Gaia reading groups’, and met with various coven leaders where some more pressing topics of discussion included political and fiscal concerns both internal and external to the various covens and their geographical locations. But overall the mood for those attending remained one of carnival and fun. 

Xander caught up with Dawn for a few brief moments on the second day, passed on Buffy’s and introduced her to Matti, pleased when he saw her turn on the charm, take the young man by the arm and head off to his workshop for a requested quick guided tour. She returned sometime later gushing with praise for Xander’s work and embarrassed Matti a little when she publically suggested he was the perfect apprentice for her old friend and that he was so lucky to learn “…a whole bunch of stuff about life in general from Xander.” He had apparently let slip at some stage that he was gay and that Xander and he had that in common. Something Dawn made a point of telling Xander about and that she was ‘…*totally* cool with it, and well *derr*!”

That evening Xander and Willow had returned to his residence late after the bonfire and fireworks to find a simple “Spike woz here” screen saver on the computer, but apparently no ex-vampire present.

The final evening, Monday, meant for an early pack up and saw an exhausted Xander slumping onto the sofa after returning the only unsold figurine (a small ‘mistress and moon’ piece) to the shelf of completed pieces in the lounge room. He stared for a moment at the message bouncing around the inert computer screen and felt a pang of guilt. They hadn’t been here when Spike checked in the previous evening. He knew only too well how it felt to be stood up by a friend, particularly one who you had only just connected with again. 

He kicked his shoes off, groaned and pushed up. He grabbed a beer from the small bar fridge under the kitchenette counter and wandered over to hit the space bar on the computer keyboard. There was a message in his email inbox. Though the address was unknown the subject read, “For the whelp.”

He took a long draft of his beer before opening it and beginning to read.

“Evenin’ Harris. Illyria’s agreed to a meetin’ of sorts. Midnight tonight. Be up an’ waitin’ with the witch. By the way, your collection of male erotica on this bloody machine needed a bit of an update, call it service to modern education. S.”

Part 8

 

Xander instinctively looked around the room as though to check noone was looking then opened the folder he had very obviously labeled ‘My Pictures/Rec Reading” and was genuinely surprised by the contents. Photos of beautiful males in various states of undress, mostly slim blondes, with well buffed bodies and pretty features. Some were definitely *not* ‘worksafe’ but the image that caught his attention was a slim pale hand dangling a set of hand cuffs over a well toned, reclining male torso, obviously an invitation, or in anticipation, he wasn’t sure. The face was obscured but Xander found himself semi hard and imagining a certain vampire dangling said item.

He was in the process of trying to feel mildly annoyed, when the computer pinged indicating a new message making him jump slightly.

“See ya found me pressie.”

Xander quickly closed the image and returned to the conversation.

“Hey Spike and Gahhh! Privacy an issue.”

“Well given that I’m stuck pokin’ around your dirty laundry for a day and some while you lot ‘re out havin’ a fine ol’ time…”

Xander adjusted awkwardly in his seat and quickly shifted from mildly annoyed/aroused to apologetic, “Yeah about that. Look sorry OK? Willow and I just couldn’t get away.”

“So how was it?”

Xander felt on the back foot again, “What? The pictures?”

“No you git, the celebrations, but if the pics gave you jollies, I’m happy to listen t’ the cliff notes.”

“No! and as if I’d… Anyway… Celebrations… all good, and I caught up with Dawn yesterday.”

“The Bit was here? Thought she was studyin’ language in Italy somewhere?”

“Well she was/is but is also a wiccan now and according to Willow is really getting good.”

“She’d be quite the woman now I’d imagine. Got a bloke in ‘er life did she say?”

“No, well I don’t think so. We really didn’t talk about it much.”

“She happy?”

“I would say that’s a big yes.”

“Hmm…Good. Deserves a lot of that.”

There was a pause as Xander rifled around the desk for a photo Dawn had given him of her Buffy and the Immortal decked out in ski gear, standing in front of a pretty chalet the previous winter. He held it up to the camera. 

“Oh Bloody hell ruin a man’s day would ya! Be a pet ‘n stick your thumb over that squeeze o’ Buffy’s would you?!”

“You ‘n he not pals then? Thought Buffy said something about you and Angel knowing him at some point?”

“Knowin’ an’ likin’ two different issues mate. ‘N bad blood runs deep with us vampires.”

“Point taken. If it makes you feel any better I’ve never met the guy. Dawn thinks he’s a bit of a hunk but too stuck up for her liking, whatever that means.”

“Just means she’s learned some good taste and sensibilities along the way. All credit to you and the other Scoobies I reckon – and a little smatterin’ o’ advice from yours truly on occasion.”

Xander read the words but also remembered the fierce loyalty, friendship and protection shown by Spike toward Dawn pre and post his ensouling, and simply added, “Yeah, and some lessons just don’t get forgotten, nor do the teachers. You were a true friend and protector Spike. I know you’re not forgotten, especially not by Dawn – or any of us obviously..”

There was a pause in the typing from Spike’s end then a simple, “Cheers mate. Feelin’s mutual.”

There was another pause so Xander took long draft from his beer.

“What I wouldn’t do for a swig o’ the ol’ amber fluid or anythin’ for that matter.”

Xander quickly replaced the bottle to the table, careful to put it out of the sightline of the camera, “Geex Spike, sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it mate, not like it’s gonna happen anytime soon. Just another thing I miss innit.” 

Xander glanced toward the door then wall clock. Willow should be in at around nine following dinner, there was at least a couple of hours to wait and he had intended making a quick snack and watching television, but with Spike online it hardly seemed fair.

“Yeah but I didn’t mean to, you know…”

“Tell ya what. Go eat drink ‘n be merry. I’ll still be here when you’re done.”

“OK. Tell you what, I’ll point the camera into the room and put some more lights on, at least then you can see what’s going on. Promise I won’t be long.”

“’ppreciated pet.” 

Spike watched as Xander retrieved the beer, drained it quickly then busied himself at the small kitchenette. A frozen instant meal of some sort of casserole and rice was heated, bread and cheese cut, and another beer opened. The man then flicked on the television showing, what was obviously, the evening news, and settled on the couch to eat. 

Spike felt strangely happy just to be there. The scene was reminiscent of his time in the notorious ‘comfy chair’ when they shared the boy’s basement, though he was happy to see Xander’s diet had vastly improved. With the extra light in the room he was also able to observe the shelf of finished carvings, the door to what was obviously the boy’s bedroom and the evidence of a busy, single lifestyle.

Photos on the wall were of a variety of people from the past and a few of Africa, or to be more specific Ghana. The latter Spike knew from the log of old Emails in the Inbox, and various photos in the collection in ‘My Pictures’ on Xander’s computer. The boy had a past, and it was no longer a past that included exclusively Sunnydale, but he was the quintessential ‘white hat’ of that there was no doubt.

What bothered Spike more was the subtle undercurrent of sadness in Emails to Willow as one or other relationship failed when Xander had returned to the USA, and the final decision to move to England, apparently an effort to do ‘a geographical’ and find peace in a place that could accept both his Sunnydale history and his personal need to be ‘grounded’ in some fashion. 

Spike had previously noted the rave reviews of Xander’s furniture and sculpture making in more recent times, something he felt just a little pride for the man about. He had also almost resolved to tell Harris that Simon was a twonk for leaving him and that Damien was just plain out of his league in the first place, but notice Xander heading for the computer again, so waited for the input.

“I’m just going for a shower if that’s OK Spike. Mr Tired and a bit Stinky Guy here, not that that will worry you I guess, but if I’m going to be up for the meeting with Illyria then I need… anyway, won’t be long, promise.”

“No problem. Be here when you get back, shirt or no shirt ;-p”

Spike saw Xander roll his good eye then give an almost wicked grin, “And so not gonna happen mister! Back soon.”

Xander turned the camera a little and switched on a spotlight to focus on the far wall of completed sculptures and various other pieces of art he had acquired from friends at various art shows. Amongst the display was also a set of framed Sunnydale photos. Some were of Anya, others were the younger Scoobies, shots of the potentials and one of the magic box, with all the usual crew and Spike’s image somewhat obscured in the background.

He stared at it for a moment, saw the steam coming from the bedroom door signaling that showering was in progress and found himself yearning the sensation of hot water pounding over head and back. He wondered idly if the boy jacked off in the shower, and pondered just who might be the image/person that helped the procedure along.

With no sight or sound, or smell for that matter, Spike was left to only imagine hopefully what might have happened, before turning back to the computer he currently inhabited. 

He found a variety of files, some from the community college where Xander did some woodwork teaching; some relating to showing and selling his creative work, older files that included a couple of references from employers, yearly tax returns, a saved folder of letters, photos from his time in Ghana; and another containing legal documents such as visa applications, letters of recommendation from the coven and a couple following up the Sunnydale incident indicating that Xander was the sole recipient of the disaster relief fund amount apportioned to his parents and their home.

Spike came back to room-awareness when a wet haired Xander came into view and typed, “Back again, sorry I took so long.”

“Every man needs ‘is ‘private’ time, an’ don’t worry… Virtual Big Bad ‘member? C’n see, hear or smell bugger all – your virtue’s in tact. Still you could give me the cliff notes’ if you like”

“And again with the *so* not going to happen! Anyway figure you’ve been snooping around my computer while I was out… and hello Mr State-the-obvious here. So? Care to embarrass the very single and yes gay guy with the how pathetic statements?”

There was a distinct pause before the next message and Xander found himself bracing for yet another round of either insults or lewd comments. Instead, “Aught wrong with either mate. Batted for the other team meself on occasion, an’ as for single, better that than partnered without love in the mix.”

Xander found himself feeling a little guilty for all the times he had hated the vampire for the relationship with Buffy, not that he necessarily agreed with the bathroom attack, he understood it better after learning some hard home truths from both Buffy and life experiences. Plus he had seen him uber-protective of Dawn, loyal to the Scoobies and then ensouled, fighting alongside them in their final Sunnydale year. Xander also understood what it meant to bear the enormous hurt of broken partnerships, something Xander now recognized Spike had endured just as he had. He took the comment for what it was, and answered in rather the same tone, as a friend.

“Oh?! on the gayness for you I mean, although a few of Giles books…”

“Spun your dial a bit did it… Pole up their arses, bloody Watchers! Bet they left out all the really good bits!”

“LOL Definitely – and no pics.”

“Just as well, wouldn’t want me dangly bits sullied for eternity by some schoolboy lithograph!”

Xander found himself throwing back in his chair with a true belly laugh as he imagined Giles taking off his glasses and polishing them thoroughly more than once as he poured over such a text. Spike watched the mirth and wished he could be in the room to enjoy the sound as well as sight.

Xander eventually calmed and typed, “So you an’ Angel?”

“Have us some carnal fun? He’s, was… me Grandsire, right o’ passage an’ whatnot to start. Later it was even fun like, when we were runnin’ together. All stopped when Bloody Darla and that soul… ‘n then twas just me an’ Dru. Had some on the side here an’ there – no love just playin’ with me food, then after the chip ‘n soul ‘n… anyway… all history now innit. No more fiddlin’ about of any sort for this… whatever I am now.” 

There was another pause in the writing and Xander was just trying to formulate his thoughts when Spike started again, “Know what I miss the most?”

“About sex?”

“No you git, well that too… but I miss touch. I miss the *feel* of things, you know: Cold, hot, rough, smooth, wind, water, feel of a mattress under your body, glass to your lips, rollin’ a ciggy, the kind touch of a friend’s hand. All beyond me now. Even bein’ seen’d be a bonus… Listen when’s that witch of yours turnin’ up?”

Xander was still mulling over the previous admission but turned to look at the clock. “Any minute now. I think she was going to catch up with a few of the coven leaders again after dinner – you know, cause they’re all pretty much leaving tomorrow.”

“Red too?”

“No, Wills is here until Friday next week… ten days.”

“Oh, well at least that gives her some time if Illyria comes through with the goods.”

Xander sat for a moment then almost as a shy afterthought wrote, “Look I’ll be back to the usual tomorrow, if your not, you know… busy… I can take the laptop and webcam into the workshop and you could watch, well… me working in real time for a while. You know if that’s something different for a change. There’s Wifi all over the coven and I can just leave it streaming.”

There was another pause then, “Well so long as your precious privacy ain’t bein’ compromised.”

Xander could almost see the sense of relief on Spike’s face then the pleased look of being included, the expressions familiar and almost forgotten from their Sunnydale days.

“It’s a… well not date, but I promise OK.”

“Taa Harris, now go relax ‘til the witch gets here. I’ll amuse meself somehow. Midnight remember.”

“We’ll be here.”

With that Xander moved away from the computer, grabbed another beer and settled in front of the television to wait for Willow.

………………………

 

Part 9

Shortly after eleven a rather exhausted Willow returned from the main coven building to find a dressed Xander snoozing on the couch, television still on, so tiptoed to her temporary bedroom to change into her pajamas, dressing gown and slippers.

She had just finished cleaning her teeth when Xander knocked politely. “Wills? Are you decent?”

“Hey Mister. Yup very decent and very tired. Hang on, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Xander decided that coffee was needed, at least if he was going to be lucid when Spike and/or Illyria made contact again, so busied himself with that task after flicking off whatever late night movie was showing.

A weary but smiling Willow wandered in just as the percolator huffed to life.

“Mmmm caffeine. Sorry I’m so late back, but most of the other coven leaders leave really early tomorrow morning, well two went tonight with their members… Anyway, did you talk to Spike?”

“For a while yeah. Important news is that Illyria will be online at midnight.” 

Willow leaned heavily against the small kitchen bench and, closing her eyes stretched her neck from side to side and sighed a little. “Well it’s better now than never. I’ll try to make sure I’m a bit pepped up before then. Is Spike still online?”

“Not sure. I left the computer going just in case he wanted, you know, company of sorts. Really didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Willow seemed to consider that for a moment then accepted to proffered coffee and made her way to the computer in the corner to check Email and wait until contact was made. Xander simply busied himself washing the few dishes left strewn around and generally tidied his small abode.

By the time to computer pinged to indicate a message, the two were sitting comfortably chatting about some of the more bizarre of Willow’s experiences in Brazil (and a few besides). Their reaction was one of excitement and not a little trepidation.

“Evenin’ all, you two still up an’ around I see.”

Xander indicated the chair for Willow. “Hey Spike.”

“Red. All the hoo haa over then?”

“For this year, yes. I’m so glad you could convince Illyria to talk to me.”

“Not much convincin’ involved. Reckon she’s a mite over this existence too. Kept rabbiting on about botnets ‘n DFFcons ‘n such like, whatever the Hell that means in the King’s English.”

“Botnets are where you infect other machines with a virus so the person using them doesn’t realize their machine has actually been turned into a zombie.”

“That’s all we bloody need, zombies bad enough in the flesh. So what, the machine has a demon controller or sommit?”

“Well I guess it could be a demon, but essentially it is a hacker or group of hackers that use the power of the combined computer network of ‘bots’ to do something, you know like the denial of service stuff that happened at Yahoo a few years back. They can do heaps of damage and it’s a real worry especially with all the unsecured networks these days.”

“OK lost me a little but I get the gist. Be just up her alley to want to do that. Anyway, heads up here comes the missus.”

Illyria’s presence came online with a blast of power that temporarily had the computer blue screen. A very worried Willow quickly rebooted and within a minute or so Illyria was ‘in the building’.

“Willow Rosenburg. I am interested that both Spike and the memories of Fred have you as what humans call a redhead. It seems that is a misnomer.”

Willow was a little taken aback by the comment but answered politely. “Hello Illyria. I am so glad you agreed to meet with us.”

“I have need of your skills as I hope Spike has informed you.”

“Well yes, but I guess I need a bit more information before I know if there’s anything I can really do to help. Perhaps you could tell me what exactly it is you need.”

“I assume you are familiar with the workings of the electromagnetic energies on this earthly plane.”

“I did a bit of research but yes, certainly as far as the usual manifestations and sources, although I’m sure you, and Fred, are/were far more advanced in understanding.”

“Of course. It had been my intention to transfer temporarily and use the internet and connectivity to move into a more satisfactory realm for my permanent dominion however this domain I currently inhabit is restricted in its scope when attempting conversion/transfer of entities. I will need the magical input of you and the coven along with a large earthly source of such energy to give my being the boost required to ‘move on’ as you humans so inadequately put it.”

“So you don’t want to manifest back here at all here on Earth, not even the Deeper Well.”

“I have neither reason nor desire to sleep for eternity, nor can I countenance the idea of ruling this planet of such pathetic creatures once again. From Fred’s calculations it is entirely possible to transfer my essence to another dimension where I shall take form of an appropriate being and rule again I am meant to do.”

Willow was more than a little taken aback that Illyria had not even mentioned Spike in the equation so decided to remind the Old One. “And Spike? What about Spike’s essence?”

“Spike has been a loyal servant and is a brave warrior, but has expressed disinterest in following me to my new realm. I would have you restore him to an earthly form and believe that may occur concurrently with my ascendance.”

“But his ‘form’ was dusted. I don’t think even I have the magicks to reverse that, apart from the fact that we don’t even have the dust!”

“I can assist you with the final transformation, but initially you will need to provide him with an appropriate vessel of his choosing.”

“Grave robbing? Or worse… Spike wouldn’t agree to taking over someone else surely?”

Spike’s typing suddenly appeared, “Too right I bloody wouldn’t. Mistress here already knows that! Keep talkin’. Sommit about changin’ atoms or some such.”

“Do not interrupt underling.” There was a slight pause then Illyria continued, “As I was saying a vessel needs to be prepared. It must be carbon based and of the shape he desires his final form. Now to more pressing matters… I would have you research the magical consequences of two types of events, as this is an information shortfall in Fred’s repertoire and there is little written on the internet regarding the same. An oversight you may want to address in due course.”

Willow was temporarily distracted by Xander who was rifling through a drawer in search of a pen but simply typed, “What are the events?”

“The first are the solar storms, sunspots and events that cause high energy plasma to rain onto the earth’s magnetic field and are able to effect serious change in the electromagnetic state of the planet. The last such event was in the year of 1989 as you name it, and affected California and Texas according to my research. There will be members of your covens who may shed light on the magical advantages or otherwise of such an occurrence. And the second is the associated electromagnetic waves that accompany large seismic events. Far more common. I would suggest you consult globally regards the same. You may wish to focus some attention on those of your membership who reside in the polar regions as the magnetic field convergence is constant at those locations. Spike will furnish you with the monetary resources you require and I assume assist you until the task is in need of my attention once more.”

“No wait…” and typed in Xander’s hastily scribbled note, “Would a wood carving have to right properties for Spike’s needs?”

“Wood would be appropriate, yes, I leave those details to you. That is all.” 

With that the computer blue screened once more and Willow hit restart hoping to once again make contact with Spike, and turned to Xander as Windows began to boot up.

“Wills, I was just thinking that I might be able to carve Spike, you know a life sized one. Don’t know if he’d trust me but…”

“It does seem a possibility. Either that or something in plastic, but I’m sure that wood would be easier and kind of more natural if we are going to affect it by magic. Just let’s as Spike. It really doesn’t seem like there are many other options though. What did he/she mean Spike had money?”

The computer pinged indicating Spike was back, “So you lot gonna make me a real boy anytime soon or was her ladyship too much of her usual arrogant, annoying self?”

Willow typed furiously, “It’s all OK Spike. But I do still need to do a fair bit of research. I think Xander’s come up with an idea though. I’ll let him tell you.”

She vacated the seat in favour of Xander who was madly shaking his head and mumbling, “But we haven’t even really thought it through!”

“So what’s the master plan from the former donut boy Hmmm?”

“I should so be insulted Spike!”

“Nahh mate, what’s a memory amongst friends if a chap can’t get an occasional dig in… Now come on… if Red says you’ve got a plan then it must be a good one.”

“Well, Illyria said a carbon based form so I was just thinking, and it might not work, but if I was to carve you, well that is your former… any way… if I carve you in wood life size then maybe we can reanimate that and you can, I don’t know… get in somehow, with the coven’s help obviously.”

“What me Pinocchio? You’ve got to be kiddin’ me! Goin’ by me nose on the practice run I’d end up with a fat arse an’ wing nut ears!”

“Hey be fair! I thought you liked…”

“Steady on. Give a chap time to come to terms ehh? Casting aspersions second nature in these circumstances I would’ve thought.”

Xander smiled a little then typed, “As long as you think you can trust me.”

“None better Harris, just want editing rights is all. When’s all this gotta happen by, ‘cause seems as though you’re plenty busy with other projects.”

“Willow has to do some more research although I think she’s pretty confident.” Willow shrugged a little then nodded. “And I will have to get a piece of wood big enough to carve.” Xander couldn’t help but type the next comment, “You were what? Five foot one?”

“You cheeky sod! Five nine at least if I was an inch! ‘N if you’re not careful I’ll make you blush in front of your lady friend there by givin’ you all me other measurements too!”

Willow was audibly giggling in the back ground at the exchange but managed to swallow them for long enough to say, “Ask him what Illyria meant about the money thing.”

“Willow said to ask you what Illyria meant about helping out with money for the research.”

“Tell the witch I’ve got plenty. Cover her for airfares out of pocket and a bit besides. Whatever she needs OK? You c’n fill her in on the basics of how. Now if ya don’t mind me sayin’ but you lot look knackered. Go get some kip an’ I’ll see you tomorrow. Still happy for some company in that shed o’ yours.”

“Sure Spike. And yeah… Sleep of the good. Night Spike.” He looked up at Willow to see if she wanted to add anything, she smiled and shook her head so he added, “And from Willow too.”

The message screen read offline and Xander sat staring at the screen for a moment.

“You OK Xan?”

“Just thinking how much Spike’s got to lose if I get this all wrong, the carving I mean.”

“He trusts you Xan, that’s pretty obvious. And it’s me who should be worried. You’ll do a fantastic job I know it, but then so much more needs to happen. Still, to quote Spike, I am ‘knackered’ so see you in the morning. Hug for an old friend first.”

Xander stood up, “Hug it is.” And pulled her to his chest for a warm squeeze.

……………….

The next morning saw Willow up early to attend breakfast at the main house and farewell departing colleagues while Xander unplugged the laptop and carried it and camera out to the workshop. Matti was already there sanding a table top. He switched off the belt sander and removed his safety goggles to grin a good morning and look quizzically at the computer being set up.

“Willow thought it would be good to record us working so I thought I’d video for an hour or two each day. Is that OK with you or do you want me to do it some other time when you’re not here?”

“No it’s fine… You going to edit later I hope!”

“Only the best bits, you know me. And don’t worry, commentary goes on later too.”

Xander fired up the laptop, positioned the webcam just so and went to work. There was really no telling if Spike was there or not but at least he had kept his promise.

Around lunchtime Willow arrived with an invitation for Matti to join Dawn and two other young wiccans who were staying until the Friday for a shopping ‘adventure’ in town. Xander nodded his approval added ‘have fun’ and accepted the plate of sandwiches from Willow. He was sitting within line of sight of the computer and as soon as Matti left a message popped up.

“Got a pretty arse when you’re workin’ Harris. Afternoon Red.”

Willow looked amazed, “Xander! What a lovely idea!”

Xander blushed at both the compliment and Spike’s comment hoping to heaven he wouldn’t say anything more lewd. “Well it seemed like a way of kind of including him. And I’ll need him to be here when I start, you know, the sculpture.”

“Did you have any luck with the wood suppliers?”

“Not yet but they said to ring back tomorrow. George, the manager, said he’s happy to have a piece milled specially, so I’ve given him the dimensions of what I think I’ll need. It could be a couple of weeks though.”

“Well you’ve done better than me, though Mistress Yollanda is going to come over this evening to talk things through. I think we need all the help we can get.”

“Definitely.”

The computer pinged again, “So gonna include a chap in the conversation?”

Willow moved over and typed in what she had just said, adding Xander’s news about the wood. There was a pause then, “Right then. Well much as I’d love to hang about, it’s time for this international trader to get to some business. Talk later… And thank Harris for this morning. Mighty nice to feel included of sorts.”

…………….

The evening with Yollanda was a serious one: Discussions of Spike’s history, of Fred, Illyria and various other vital pieces of the Sunnydale/LA backstory (which was far more complicated than either Xander or Willow had previously realized). 

In the end Yollanda had been not only fully supported but genuinely enthusiastic to assist Spike’s cause. Apart from anything else the prospect of collecting information about what was perhaps the most powerful untapped sources of energy, and using them in hitherto never or at best, rarely, attempted magical ways and for good, was of great interest. 

 

Part 10

The following couple of weeks followed much the same pattern but for one change. Xander’s near obsessive turn out of work in an effort to complete all outstanding work prior to the need to focus on Spike’s carving. The gallery carrying his work was thrilled with the increased productivity and also (to Matti’s amazement) accepted some of Xander’s apprentice’s work on recommendation.

Willow and Yollanda met nightly to investigate possible spells and contact all known sources of information from their vast network of witches and magical sources. It was not an easy task, although they had managed to establish that electromagnetic fluctuations in the frequency range of MHz were known to be related to a few sources, including atmospheric noise (due to lightning), man-made composite noise, solar–terrestrial noise (resulting from the Sun–solar wind–magnetosphere–ionosphere–Earth's surface chain) or cosmic noise, and finally, the lithospheric effect, namely pre-seismic activity.(1)

It gave at least a few sources to follow up on according to Illyria’s lead.

For Xander, although the fortnight was somewhat frantic with his own work, there was a strange sense of purpose and… something more he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The conversations with Spike online each evening seemed to take on the easy banter of two old friends, not that Xander would admit to ever being truly friends in their Sunnydale days, but somehow now was different. In a sense they were both displaced, both with mixed histories, and certainly now with a commonality that neither expected.

Xander found himself shifting around in the workshop so the camera had a better view of the work, and after hours, sharing some of his Ghana experiences with the ex Vampire – those too emotionally charged to do with anyone who was… in the room. And through that learned ‘tit for tat’, some facts about Spike’s early life, and a few choice tidbits from vampire days that had him thinking, ‘If but for the grace of God go I’. And the feeling was, well seemed, somehow mutual. 

Spike occasionally baited Xander, and Xander fell for it. Then there was the accompanied virtual smirk and a longer dialogue including history (as appropriate) on both parts plus… understanding. Every few conversations the pattern went in reverse. And through it all, a friendship seemed to be forming, a true friendship that Xander was both enamored, and terrified by, in equal measure, and for a plethora of reasons.

What if the spell didn’t work and the wood was fried by some cosmic lightening bolt or worse meant that Spike was trapped in the wooden form for eternity; what if his sculpture was inadequate and Spike was changed but stuck as some malformed invalid; what if Spike was beautifully formed, fully fledged etcetera but rejected Xander. In the end Xander did as Yollanda told all the new members of the coven… He focused on his centre, his truth, and trusted in his higher power… and truly prayed to… his truth… that all would work out.

………….  
On the day before Willow was due to leave a large truck carrying a small fork lift and two large blocks of oak rolled into the coven carpark. Xander was on the spot momentarily and directed the unloading of the precious cargo.

The blocks were perfect. Pale and with but a few knots apparent on their surface.

Placed on the carefully prepared concrete block, meticulously leveled by Xander with Matti’s help, the enormity of the artisan’s task became even more apparent.

With Spike’s help, Xander had sourced hundreds of photos of the vampire, some screen grabs from Andrew’s ‘Day in the Life’ Sunnydale video, others from Willow, Dawn and Buffy (who were told Willow was putting together a visual history of their Sunnydale days). Xander (with Spike’s keen eye providing feedback on accuracy) had also made nearly fifty sketches and two small wooden mock ups planning out the most important sculpture of his career so far.

Matti was intrigued by all the fuss as Xander always seemed to simply come up with the more decorative pieces by what looked like instinct with a good measure of creative talent and experience, but when the blocks actually arrived, their sheer size explained all.

Matti had plenty of his own work to go on with but still assisted Xander in measuring up and marking the first rougher cuts planned for the pale wood. The most intricate carving was to be a male nude leaning back against the second block (which was to be a tree trunk, left knee bent, foot resting on the tree to “…hide me dangly bits at least a little from pryin’ eyes!”, and right arm stretched up, holding the tree trunk above the figure’s head. The head was tilted slightly as though staring upward at the stars but essentially the whole piece was to be one of relaxed contemplation. 

It had been decided that the tree should stand separate to the figure, as both Xander and Willow were terrified that if any part of Spike was actually attached to either base or tree, the spell would result in permanent adhesion of said bit to Spike’s human flesh (hopefully) body. It would be no mean feat to balance the figure perfectly but the mockups had Xander determining the angles just so and he was confident it would work.

Willow was fascinated by the dedication, nearing obsession of Xander. She knew he and Spike had become closer but was still surprised by a few candid admissions by her long time friend, particularly when it came to Xander’s wishing he had realized his preferences earlier and seen the ‘whole of Spike’ while in Sunnydale. What didn’t phase her was Xander’s white hat, ‘all out’ attitude to saving a friend. Some things really never changed.

Willow’s departure was marked by tears on her part and not a small amount of hugging and solemn promises. Spike had indeed come through with the funding for a trip that would take her first back to Brazil for a time then to three different regions of the world and associated meetings with the coven. She would be away for four months at least. Enough time for Xander to complete the sculpture it was hoped.

That evening Spike and Xander spoke as usual.

“So Red got away OK then?” 

“She said she’ll be online as often as she can but yeah. Lots of ‘see you soon’ -s and a ‘tell Spike’ –s.”

“Hmmm, she’s a right sweetheart that one. So… Onward and upward at this end ehh?”

“Well yeah. I didn’t get much further than you saw via camera this morning. But I think it’s kind of important to get the tree done first.”

“You’re the expert mate. Just appreciate bein’ included as spectator.”

“So who’s Simon?”

“What?”

“Simon, mate. Bloke who keeps emailin’ you, lives in San Fran.? ”

“Just a friend. We knew each other in Africa.” 

“*Knew* ehhh?”

“Well OK! Ex-first lover. Happy?”

“He an older bloke then?”

“Jealous much?”

“Only if you’re think I should be…”

“You fishing?”

“No need mate. Know you’ve only got eyes for me statue at this point.”

“Gahh Spike and could you be more self involved?”

“Kind of a vested interest in your work is all… Sorry if I offended.”

It was the first true apology from Spike that Xander could remember and realized that their relationship had shifted.

The conversation shifted to easier topics and Xander felt the ever increasing sense of loneliness when Spike finally signed off for the evening.  
………….

Willow’s contact over the next three months was fleeting at best, though Spike seemed to be able to track her movements with relative ease (Xander belatedly realizing that her mobile was GPS enabled). All contact was lost however, in week fourteen when she headed for the upper regions of Tibet. 

By that time, however, Xander’s rendering of Spike’s form had begun in earnest. He and Spike worked nightly on images of the core features, and in the process, their friendship grew to new heights of respect and understanding.

It had taken Xander all of Willow’s four months absence to complete the basic form. Power tools were replaced by fine incredibly sharp chisels and sand paper, as the clearly defined musculature of a beautiful male body was hewn. Taut stomach and legs had slowly took form, carefully carved buttocks and shapely calves and feet were soon joined to an exquisitely beautiful, muscular male back. Even Spike was stunned by Xander’s artistry and said as much (even if couched in terms of “… sanding that behind turn you on just a little Harris, cause gotta say… couldn’t blame ya.”) 

As the day of Willow’s return loomed Xander still worried. Despite Spike’s reassurance that the planned facial features were ‘spot on’, it was one thing to draw from a photo and another to get the exact jawline and wistful look just right in three dimensions. One thing had been a relief though. Spike swore ‘on the grave of his mother’ that the knot in the wood that fell just on the right neck of the figure was in just the right place for his turning bite.

And so Xander completed the painstaking task of getting the face right on the morning of the week post Willow’s arrival. 

His old friend had visited the workshop every afternoon following her return, and was entirely impressed by the amazing craftsmanship and care Xander had afforded the sculpture even though unfinished. It was truly a masterpiece. And as the face slowly emerged, lovingly coaxed from the wood over the ensuing week, Willow’s respect for Xander the Master Craftsman and artist was cemented. 

The final facial features were accurate to the millimeter and the form… just perfect. And now it was Willow’s turn to step up.   
………..

Willow and Yollanda were confident of transferring Spike’s essence to the sculpture, even without Illyria’s help. It was the part after that which had them all in a quandary.

Illyria’s insistence that there would be more electromagnetic energy needed than was normally available on Earth seemed to mean that they would have to be in situ when an event like an earthquake or solar flare occurred. 

Nevertheless Spike was adamant that he should inhabit his form sooner rather than later. The thinking being that if he were to do so, they would then travel to the appropriate locale and with the extra boost from the magical energy from the appropriate coven, plus Illyria’s grasp of the intricacies of: a) being able to ‘bring down’ the W&H servers via a black market ‘botnet’ and b)the transformation/translation of her digital self, coinciding with the changing of Spike’s inanimate carbon form, to something beyond their current state. 

As a direct consequence, on the eve of Xander’s completing the piece, a pentagram was drawn in odd coloured sand, and with the whole Berkshire coven present and computer beaming every second to Spike via webcam, the chanting began. 

Spike felt an odd tug at first then a wrenching, ripping sensation as his whole essence tore from the digital realm and was transferred to the nude male statue in repose.

.............................

(1) G Koulouras et al 2009 Phys. Scr. 79 045901 (12pp) doi: 10.1088/0031-8949/79/04/045901 

............................

 

Part 11

There was absolute silence as the laptop screen went black then fired back up reporting a network error.

It took Xander a moment to recover the sight in his good eye after the flash and as soon as he had rushed to an unconscious Willow’s side. She had been the conduit for the energy, the only witch in the circle deemed capable of channeling the combined energies into the figure.

The others in the circle looked dazed but the Mistress Yollanda moved as quickly as she was able to assist Xander as he lifted Willow’s limp form and placed her gently on the old chaise lounge in the corner of the workshop.

“Is she be OK Yollanda? I mean really OK?”

“Her pulse is fine, and yes, I see her aura is also showing relaxation and health. But we must bear this in mind for when we attempt the full change and Illyria’s ascension. We will need a full gathering of High Mistresses or whoever is the primary will surely suffer death.”

“And Spike? How do we know?”

Yollanda moved to the statue and placed her hand gently on the cool wood near where Spike’s heart would be were he human or vampire. “It is well. There is the presence of a soul. I believe it was successful.”

Xander realized something rather too belatedly. “But… what? Now he can’t communicate at all? How are we going to… you know, contact Illyria? How do we know…?”

Willow began to come around and Xander was temporarily distracted from one worry to tend to another. Willow looked decidedly grey as she attempted to push up to sitting. Yollanda gentled her back again and cooed reassuringly “It is fine my sister, all is as it should be. Rest. Just rest.”

Yollanda turned to Xander, “To answer your question dear Xander, it is relatively easy for us to commune with Spike but it will require some training if you are to do it. We will start in the morning. As for Illyria, I believe she will have felt Spike’s shift from digital to inanimate, and I suspect we will be hearing from her very soon as I am almost certain that Spike will have indicated at least some of our progress to her. Willow and I will continue to work with other coven leaders to determine our next move and in the mean time I advise we move the statue to your living quarters as I am sure you would want Spike safe and warm.”

Xander was instantly aware of just how cold the workshop had become and moved over to the statue, touching it tentatively. The wood seemed unchanged, its pale smooth surface in stark contrast to Xander’s own work roughened hands. He resolved to rub linseed oil into the surface the following day to give it some protection against any water or random staining, but for now it was a matter of enlisting the assistance of three of the wiccans present (Matti included) to carry the sculpture first Spike then the ‘leaning tree’ back to his lounge room. 

The first trip with the male body had been tricky, Xander nearly panicking as he realized they would have to put the figure down until the tree was in place. They gentled the form onto Xander’s lounge suite, careful not to knock the fine carving for fear of snapping off some piece or other. Xander blushed when he realized that Spike’s private parts were on show in the reclining position and found a small knee rug to throw over the form until they were ready to place it in the upright pose. Eventually however, Spike was resting against the carved tree trunk facing into the room, though his face was still tilted slightly up. Xander hoped he could somehow feel or even see where he was though there really was no telling until they managed to ‘talk’.

Xander made a minor attempt to clean up the workshop as Willow was helped back to the main house at the end of proceedings, and Mistress Yollanda promised to visit the following day to assist Xander in communing with his statue.

Eventually an exhausted Xander bade the statue goodnight, switched off the lights and took himself to bed to collapse exhausted.  
……………

Spike came to with a jolt. He was in darkness but for a small gas fire in the corner of what he knew to be Xander’s home, although his view was restricted and certainly very different to that he had from the computer camera. He was aware of pressure on his feet and back, and could feel wood under his left hand when he concentrated hard enough. He made several minor attempts to wiggle all to no avail and suddenly wondered if this was all such a terrific idea. Like Xander, he really hadn’t thought through the lack of ability to communicate, although Willow had mentioned a channeling of sorts as the method they would use and as rather an afterthought, he had made arrangements for Xander to be a signatory for the Aurelian funds in the week prior.

So now he waited. A few things were very different. He felt warm and oddly relaxed. Though his physical eyes remained open, there was no need to blink or breathe, the latter being a familiar state from his vampire status of old. He could smell the room he was in, and his own scent of cut oak wood. He was aware he could hear Xander’s slow breathing in the next room and tried to worry but really could not. Whatever his form now, it was infinitely better than no sensation at all.

So Spike did what he always did in such circumstances. He accepted his lot for now and allowed himself to drift, sleep of sorts finally taking him.

He woke again as the sun beamed through the east facing window and had a moment of panic as a ray of light hit his torso. But nothing happened. No burning, no dusting, just the delight of slight warmth on his surface for the first time since he could remembered. Necrotinting had its advantages but there was never any warmth associated with the sun’s rays coming through the glass of Wolfram and Hart, something he only truly appreciated now.

He relished the feeling and began to take note of other morning phenomena: the sound of birds greeting the day, the movement of trees outside the window, the smell of the coffee percolating in the automatic machine and shrill sound of Xander’s alarm going off. 

Moments later he became aware of movement in the bedroom and a rather disheveled Xander emerged in boxer shorts, eyes still only half open, scratching his rather well toned belly. If Spike could have said something he would but settled for simply admiring the view. Xander seemed to have forgotten Spike was present and was working on a sleepy automatic set of morning habits wandering across to open the cupboard for a cup then fridge for milk and finally poured himself a coffee, took a sip and turned around to face the room.

“Gahhh!” The coffee was jerked and sloshed all over Xander’s hand and onto the floor. He had completely forgotten about Spike’s form in the room but was a little too busy for a proper greeting in the next few minutes as he ran his had under the cold tap and wiped up the mess on the floor. When he finally did turn again, he realized the sun was lighting up the carving, giving it a golden glow and accentuating the musculature by forming shadows as a real body would. The face with its fine cheekbones and strong jaw line was even more striking in the sunlight and Xander smiled. He really was happy with his work.

Although he felt a little ridiculous talking to a statue he managed, “Morning Spike, forgot you were in the room for a minute. Sorry.”

He then began a monologue, more for his own comfort than anything. “I plan to oil you today, and that sounds so weird assuming you’re in there. Mistress Yollanda thinks it will be a week or two before I get the hang of ‘talking’ to you properly so you’ll just have to put up with this for the time being, that is assuming you can… I don’t know hear or feel or whatever. I’ll finish breakfast then I need to oil you… and OMG that sounds totally of the wrong if you’re in there and will feel… but I didn’t get the chance before the coven was ready to do the mojo and like I told you online, oiling of the good if we’re going to keep your surface in the best possible condition.”

He almost expected the statue to react in some way, but there was no indication one way or the other whether Spike was actually present, so he fell silent and simply got on with his morning routine. He was just about to move to pack up the laptop and camera ready to take back to the workshop when he realized that would be of little use if Spike was in his living room unable to move, so reassured the statue that he would be back later in the morning and went to see how Willow was faring and meet Matti on schedule.

 

Part 12

Xander spent most of the day reorganizing the workshop, although he and Matti took a trip to town to pick up some more wood working supplies, and visit an art shop to obtain a litre of top grade linseed oil.

They also paid a visit to the gallery that now proudly displayed their work, Matti thrilled that two of his original pieces had been sold. Despite Xander’s reassurances, he had worried that they were not yet good enough for sale, but the ornate glass topped coffee table with its display box feature underneath had been snapped up within a day, and there were orders for two more. 

The gallery owner, Adrianna Fellini was an effusive, petite woman in her late forties whose ‘upper crust’ English accent seemed to come and go depending on the client. Xander liked her immensely and had learned early on that she loved to flirt with “my boys”. He also knew that she was an astute business woman with a wide network of contacts and loyal clientele.

“Now *Darling*, you *must* tell me, have you finished your ‘Reclining Male’? I do expect to see it.”

Xander looked at Matti who shrugged. Neither could remember putting a name to Spike’s statue – well not for the general public at least.

“I, um, yes. Hence the trip to town for supplies. But it’s not for sale. It is a special project for the big house at Nettlewood… I um…”

“Oh you are a love… I’m just curious… and after all, you can always use photos of your commissioned work in our brochure for this coming summer! I’m sure Yollanda would agree – after all it’s a wonderful opportunity to publicize the callibre of art and craftwork the group at Nettlewood produces. But onto more important matters… Sweetie you *must* let me in on the theme for your next series of works.” 

“Um…” Xander looked over to several oil paintings on the wall, one named ‘Pompeii in a day’ then replied, “I thought I’d do a sort of antiquity series, warriors and maidens, that type of thing.”

“Oooh, can’t wait… Anything you do is welcome Darling!”

The conversation went on easily for a few minutes until Adrianna had a customer enter the gallery and she shooed ‘her boys’ away with a promise to contact them regarding a photographer for Xander’s Reclining Male and an air kiss for both men.

The drive home was done in comfortable silence, both men thinking about their conversations with Adrianna. 

As Xander turned up the long driveway to the main house, he belatedly realized that he had left Spike alone for the entire day, bar rushing past to search for his keys and wallet prior to departing.

As a consequence, Xander only spent a few minutes with Willow, finding her comfortably resting in the afternoon sun, pale but none the worse for the previous evening’s experience, delivered the purchases to the workshop, grabbed an old soft towel for the oil then made a beeline for his residence, linseed bottle in hand.

“Hi honey I’m home.” 

The lounge room was comfortably warm. The figure in the corner unmoved since the morning, but Xander was still distracted by its beauty. Even though it was his own work, he felt he had been guided all the way as old friend coached him “on me finer details”. 

He set down his ‘bits and pieces’ then rather self consciously moved to the sculpture and caressed the sun warmed arm thoughtfully with the back of his hand. “I… um… Sorry it took so long in town…”

Spike wished for some measure of contact, but none was forthcoming, so he relished the quiet touch and in his own head, sent thoughts of thanks and love for the mature handsome sculptor, now his maker, that stood looking so lost in front of him.

Xander eventually broke from his pensive mood. “Right well, I’m going to sort some sort of snack for yours truly then we’ll check your investments online and after that I guess it will be time to um… well… the oil. So… food of the good.”

Xander fixed himself a ham and tomato sandwich, grabbed a beer, flicked on the computer and checked the rather substantial investment portfolio on line. The previous week, when Xander had first been instructed in how to logon by Spike he had been utterly amazed by the sheer size and complexity of it all. Spike reassuring him that it “…could all just sit there unless you get word from her ladyship that something is goin’ down.” As it was now he felt relieved to simply read out (for Spike’s benefit) the key numbers and some of the tracked shifts in share prices, the price of gold and one dividend payment of a very substantial sum. There was also a note from a company in Dubai offering Spike ‘an exciting investment opportunity’. Xander felt a little too out of his depth to make any sort of decision and genuinely hoped that they could make contact with Spike again soon.

Sandwich still half eaten, he opted for some television and relaxed for a few minutes, occasionally looking up to ponder the statue in the corner. He had to decide the best way to approach the oiling of such a large figure, in the end it seemed top down was the best option and preferably several thin layers rather with ‘rest’ times in between to allow it to soak in. He would need Matti’s help to lift it away from the tree eventually but for now, would manage solo for the bulk of Spike’s figure.

Oiling the form seemed so much more personal knowing that Spike was inside, whereas the fine hand sanding had simply been to a piece of wood. Finally Xander concluded that he needed to simply start the task, finished his beer quickly and moved to begin. 

Spike felt the first tentative stroke over his raised arm, skimming the bicep and ending in a stronger press as the hand found his shoulder. He would have groaned and leaned into it if he could but instead was condemned to wait patiently for the next. Xander was meticulous and careful with the process, always beginning at the top and using long strokes to evenly cover each limb and working the oil into the intricately carved features. 

He managed to avoid the private parts for as long as he could, aware that rubbing the well formed buttocks had brought Little Xander to life. Eventually however, after toes, fingers even the soles of Spike’s feet had been carefully covered, the inevitable nether regions were not so clinically massaged with the oil. 

Spike was in heaven then hell again, the very essence of his being so aroused it was exquisite torture, intensely ticklish underarms and juncture of hips and legs were rubbed lightly, the backside he wished he could tense out of the way was all but caressed, then… then… he never realized that an explosive desire to reach climax could be so… He began a mantra in his head of “Please! Yes… There… Just… Ohh God in heaven just another stroke there!” Yet nothing could be done to truly relieve the urge, and he was left to calm down while Xander took the inevitable ‘cold shower’.

Spike was left to ponder the experience and Xander’s response to oiling his form later that evening as his sculptor set some music playing softly in the background, opened a window to relieve the room of the linseed smell, and left to attend the first of his lessons in channeling with Willow and Mistress Yollanda. 

Xander’s first efforts at relaxing and attempting to commune with Willow were somewhat hampered by his very recent ‘oily’ experience and images of a certain beautiful male physique. Rather than letting the meditation carry him to the ‘quiet secluded beach’ solo he continued to have a peripheral vision version of Spike leaning, very nude, against a palm tree. 

Willow must have determined at least in part, the source of distraction and suggested that they include Spike in the relaxing picture, since the whole point of the exercise was to contact him eventually. The Mistress smiled knowingly and included Spike in the relaxing picture. Xander floated into semi consciousness easily on his third attempt and found himself in the sunny beach scene with Spike’s form now lying relaxed and smiling next to him. The blue eyes were the colour of the azure sea in the scene, and he was stretched out on the sand next to Xander utterly nude and smiling. Xander found himself smiling back and reached over to touch Spike’s hand. There was no response but definitely a tingle in the hand doing the touching… then he was back in the reading room with the wiccans, “Warm comfortable and relaxed.” 

The experience was related back to Willow and Yollanda who were both thrilled with the response and confident that with some careful planning, Xander would be able to make true contact. Promises of more sessions in the coming days and a quick discussion of the prospect of a photographer visiting the coven concluded the training and Xander took his leave.

His home was on the chilly side, with the window he’d left open allowing in the cold evening air. He turned on some lights then shut it immediately before moving over to check his handiwork.

Spike had been happily relaxed listening to music until rather late in Xander’s absence when his hand began to tingle and itch terribly. He wondered if it was his form changing again or whether there was something untoward happening. He couldn’t angle his eyes to see if anything was different and was relieved when Xander returned, hoping that his maker might notice if there was anything untoward and let him know.

Instead Xander quietly related his experience and touched the hand just as he had in his trancelike state and… the itch was gone. Spike knew at once that his discomfort and Xander’s vision of them on the beach was linked but was unable to relate his side of the experience. His listened as Xander verbalized his worry that he might not be able to learn the channeling techniques quickly enough but that he would try his best. Spike wished he could say something, that he trusted Xander; that the boy, no man, was capable of far more than he ever gave himself credit for; that Spike had come to care for Xander deeply and that he would be forever in his debt, even if he was condemned to remaining made of wood for all eternity.

 

Part 13 

The following day the quiet routine was repeated for Spike, who enjoyed Xander’s commentary of his morning activities then was left once more to ponder his life as it was now. The window was again open allowing a slight breeze and the sounds of the outside world to float in. 

Though he had not physically seen the coven buildings or many of the members and friends, he could guess the activities and owners of the voices. The daily life at the coven was obviously conducted at a leisurely but purposeful pace. Three cars and a motorbike (or rather badly tuned old car) arrived early and there were children’s voices mixing with the adults. “Jasper put that back sweetie, you can only take *one* of your toys today remember, Mistress Di said.” An accompanied whine, “But Maaaamm” then the distracting “Oooh look sweetheart, Bella’s here today…” a squeal, then children greeting each other and hurried small footfalls as the same youngsters raced to the main coven house. 

He heard the intermittent whine of Xander’s drop saw, a ride on mower later in the morning and the postie’s whistle signaling mail had arrived. There was also the sound of a dog excitedly announcing the arrival of each visitor, the passive clucking of chickens and a goat or three bleating somewhere close by. And there was an intermittent strange ‘thunking’ noise that he would later learn was a rather ancient hot water service struggling to meet the needs of washing day. 

Willow visited around lunchtime, ushered in by Xander and accompanied by two young wiccans Tracy and Ella, and Matti. Spike could see most of the scene and strained to use his peripheral vision to catch the goings on that did not fall in his direct line of sight. Frustrated he stopped trying and simply listened. 

“Thanks *so* much for letting Tracey and I come and learn from you Xander. Mistress Willow said we can have two afternoons off a week. Is that OK with you?” It was Ella’s quiet ‘girly’ soprano, Spike enjoying putting a face to a name as she came into his direct line of vision momentarily.

Xander was obviously distracted finding glasses as the four others settled on old kitchen chairs and the couch. A platter of sandwiches and fruit bowl were placed on the coffee table and Spike was privy to the excited discussion of the plans for Xander to instruct the girls while Matti ‘worked on his new pieces’. Spike drifted for a few minutes, allowing the ‘company’ to enjoy their shared meal, so was a little surprised when his shoulder registered Willow’s soft touch. 

“It does seem to have soaked in.”

Spike noted the hint of embarrassment in Xander’s matter of fact reply, “Yeah… I’ll have to reapply it at least three more times I think, to get the proper protection for the wood.”

Willow’s hand ceased its slow path down his arm as she pondered Xander’s words. “Hmmm. No tingles or anything… you know… when you’re applying the oil.”

Spike *wished* he could turn to see Xander’s face, because he could almost feel the heat of the man blushing from his fixed position. Willow’s light hearted giggle left no doubt that there was at least a little truth in his supposition. 

Repast consumed, the group moved back to the shed, but not before both Xander and Willow had had some quiet words with Spike, both reassuring him that they would break the communication barrier soon and Willow adding in a low whispered (just out of Xander’s earshot) that “… Xan has a connection with you, I just know it. Hang in there Spike.”

Xander had closed the windows and turned up the heating before departing, so Spike was left to enjoy the comfort of the general warmth and shimmer of afternoon sun falling on his midriff. He drifted again until the door creaked its objection to the increasingly cold weather and a rather chilled and tired Xander pushed into the lounge room.  
The usual “Hey honey I’m home…” brought Spike back to the present and gave him a little thrill as Xander dropped the few tools he was carrying on the couch and moved straight over to caress Spike’s forearm thoughtfully.

“The oil seems to have soaked in nicely Spike. I’ll have a bit of a meal then we’ll do it again, and that seems all types of wrong put that way. The photographer from the gallery is coming next Monday so I’ve got to make sure you’re ready to be moved by then. We’ll take you up to the big house but I promise there’ll be plenty of hands on deck for that.” Xander’s voice trailed off as he continued to run his hand down Spike’s arm and pondered their situation a little more.

As he had the previous evening, Xander turned on the computer and let it ‘fire up’ while he took the remainder of the fruit platter from the fridge and grabbed a beer before logging on to Spike’s investments and reading out the results of the day. Little had changed in twenty four hours, nevertheless Xander went through all the figures Spike had requested he track. There was a note in the Email from a hotelier discussing the possibility of purchasing two properties in ‘the orient’. 

Xander did a quick search and sat back for a moment to ponder the result. Apparently Spike owned the Romantique chain of boutique hotels that spanned Europe - Paris, St Petersburg, Milan, Prague, Geneva, Venice, Barcelona, Monte Carlo, London and the list went on, fifty seven hotels in total and all doing extremely well, their signature being ‘old style opulence for the discerning traveler’. He wondered again at Spike’s history and his business acumen. It was apparent that the hotels were all at the ‘upper end’ of expensive and all doing extremely well.

Xander eventually tore himself from his musings, checked his own savings and resolved to ask Spike for some investment tips when they were able to talk again. 

He washed his hands thoroughly collected the soft rag and bottle of linseed oil and went to work on the second application of oil. 

Like before Spike felt every pass of the cloth and luxuriated in the strong pressure on his back, buttocks and legs. The rhythmic rubbing soon had him wishing he could breathe again if only to truly relax into the feel.

Xander carefully levered Spike’s form forward to effectively apply the oil to Spike’s lower back and Spike had the lovely sensation of leaning against Xander’s strong left shoulder as the man worked the linseed into the wood. The ex-vampire could distinctly feel the muscles as they moved, the warmth of the human’s body and the pulse near Xander’s neck. Up that close he could see the beads of sweat as they emerged with the exertion and detect the increased heart rate. He could also, on and off, spy Xander’s growing erection.

Xander replaced the rag on and off with a wad of cotton wool for the more intricate areas of Spike’s anatomy, meticulously rubbing each finely detailed section of his face hands and feet so as to cover with oil completely evenly. Again the nether regions were left until last, this time Xander kneeling down in front to gain a better angle and Spike *wishing* he could have made some sort of comment about how good Harris looked in that position, wishing something else was rubbing over his apparently disinterested wooden private parts… preferably a tongue! 

Like the previous evening he was left to quietly calm as Xander showered and then made his way up to dinner and the meditation/channeling lesson at the coven.

This time soft meditation music was playing as Xander entered the library and a salt crystal glowed in a room filled with the scent of fresh lavender. He knew to lie on the thin mattress on the floor and relaxed immediately. Unlike the previous evening however, the move into semi-consciousness was easy and the image of Spike included in the relaxing beach scene from the beginning. 

Mistress Yollanda’s soft voice coaxed him to touch Spike, first on the arm, then to take his hand and pull it to Xander’s chest. Xander adding his own move to kiss the hand he held before taking it across to his sternum.

In the cabin the tingling in Spike’s hand began again, soon followed by what he could swear was a touch of lips on his palm then the distinct sensation of a beating heart. He too relaxed and focused on a strange set of images that seemed to make their way into his consciousness. The warmth of the sun, swoosh of waves and a brunette lying beside him holding his hand to the man’s heart. He couldn’t quite make out the face but knew it was Xander so tried to imagine a squeeze of the digits intertwined with his own.

In the library Xander came out of the trance like state with a jump.

“He squeezed my hand Willow! Yollanda! He, Spike, I swear he squeezed my hand!”

The Mistress Yollanda put a calming hand on Xander’s shoulder, encouraging him to lie still. “That’s wonderful Xander. Now see if you can do a little more. We will try again and this time see if you can speak to him.”

Xander looked over to Willow who smiled encouragement at him before he closed his eyes once more and breathed into the experience. This time it was Willow’s voice that sent Xander to the beach and had him roll toward Spike, place his top leg over Spike’s right thigh and continue stroke over first the pretty face, down the jawline and turn the vampire’s face toward him. This time the bottle of linseed oil seemed to emerge from nowhere just on the other side of Spike. Willow encouraged Xander to imagine he was picking up the bottle and first dribble a little on the taut torso and rub it in much as he had when doing it to the statue. 

Xander felt the form soften under his touch and watched in wonder as the perfect male muscles under the pale skin tightened then relaxed. He was aware of the lazy strains of Satie’s Gymnopedies playing in the background somewhere and began to talk softly to Spike. With Willow’s prompt he continued to rub gently over the form while telling him of some of his good memories of Sunnydale, of Spike’s loyalty and bravery then went on to say how lost he felt in the years after, the struggle of life in Africa and finding meaning there, the relief of reconnecting with Willow and pleasure in discovering his creative outlet, and finally his surprise and thrill in being able to help Spike at least in some way.

For Spike the experience was more bizarre than even his encounters with Illyria in the electromagnetic world of the Net, and far more erotic. The tingles across his form were relentless but a sense of calm and contentment was also present. In his minds eye he could imagine the hand that had so recently polished him for real was the source of the sensation and he could ‘hear’ Xander’s quiet commentary, much of it old news but the sentiment different. This was a potential lover’s touch, a man he had come to cherish as a friend. As he felt lips again press on the back of his hand he sighed and said simply “Lovely here, pet, just perfect.”

Yollanda and Willow were so focused on their subject that they almost missed Xander’s slight gasp of surprise. Yollanda immediately began to bring Xander back out of his relaxation but waited patiently to question him until the man sat up with some effort.

“He spoke Willow, Spike, I mean he really did. I heard him.”

It was a rather exhausted Yollanda who replied, offering Xander a glass of water as he righted himself. “That is wonderful Xander. It is the first step. I believe we will be able to make full contact within the next few days, and I think that next time we should perhaps have you in contact with his physical presence, as it is now, for a more effective connection.”

The discussion to debrief the whole experience was brief and to the point, and Xander returned to the cabin feeling decidedly more hopeful that the scheme to restore Spike that had been borne of hope and supposition was in fact going to work.

 

Part 14

Domestic sounds again dominated Spike’s day but this time muted a little by the soft patter of constant rain. Spike found himself recalling a visit to the country as a boy when he and his young cousin Edward were allowed to ‘sleep rough’ in the hay loft of the stables, though not much sleeping was done the first night as the two pretended to be pirates on the run from the Royal Navy.

Spike hadn’t thought of Edward for years but now remembered the experience with great fondness. It had been a joyous week of good company and innocent fun with the boys being given an unusual amount of freedom interrupted only when Edward’s governess insisted they come inside to eat their meals in the nursery.

He remembered his mother smiling a lot, and his mother and father holding hands in the carriage on the way home, an unusually public sign of affection on his father’s part.

The following year he’d been sent away to school, and the year after that Edward had died of rheumatic fever, two years on his father succumbed to typhoid leaving the sensitive young William and his mother to struggle on.

Spike spent most of the day deliberately trying to remember his early life in the finest possible detail, and uninterrupted, successfully recalled specific happy events like birthdays, his first day at boarding school, his favourite tutor at University presenting him a literature prize at the end of first year, and the quiet walks on the promenade in the days before his mother fell ill.

It was an odd experience to ponder such things after so many years, and a rather unexpectedly pleasant one. So caught up in his ruminations was he, that time passed surprisingly quickly, and as a consequence he was quite unprepared for the “Hi honey I’m home” from Xander as the man returned for the evening.

Xander’s routine was similar to the previous evening although the oiling was far more matter of fact and accompanied by a bit of a commentary about the day, Xander’s plans for the new collection and some fun anecdotes regarding his two young female protégé’s and their first lesson in woodwork. Once again there was careful attention paid to Spike’s private parts, face, fingers and toes before Xander took himself off for his customary after oiling shower (and Spike liked to think… wank).

Spike was a little surprised when Willow and Yollanda arrived while Xander was still finishing off his dinner but soon realized the purpose as he was carefully eased from his leaning post and carried in to Xander’s bedroom to be positioned gently on a towel on the bed. Candles were lit, the room filled with the soft scent of lavender essence and quiet background music switched on before Xander joined him with Willow’s encouragement.

The room was colder than the library but the Mistress Yollanda encouraged Xander to strip to his boxers then covered both he and the statue with Xander’s warm duvet. Xander was instructed to keep skin to wood contact before the quiet chanting began.

Xander was almost immediately on ‘their beach’ and this time, happily, could truly feel Spike next to him.

A smiling Spike rolled toward him and said, “So… missed me?”

“Oh Spike! I kind of thought when you said something last time…”

“T’was me alright. Least this way I don’t have to put up with all the tingles.”

“Tingles?”

“Bloody annoyin’. All but had spasms in me none to moveables last couple o’ nights.” 

Xander had the decency to blush even in his relaxed state. “I um… well I had to oil everywhere Spike… and… um… sorry.”

“Aught to be sorry ‘bout. Lovely havin’ me privates petted by a friend… Just maybe give that webcam a whirl when you have your shower tomorrow evenin’. Could do with a show.”

Xander groaned a little then added, “Not much to see really, just a lonely guy, steam and a lot of soap.”

“Anyway was talkin’ ‘bout after that… when you were communin’ with the ladies.”

“You felt that?”

“Tingles the first night in me hand, then last night pretty much all over.”

“Oh… ‘cause I did touch you… here in the where ever we are now.”

“And a mighty nice touch it was too. This is better though, 'can really feel you, heart beat 'n all. Anyway you wanted to chat… so what’s the topic?”

"Well I guess... um... Just can you tell me what it's like... you know in the day when you're um...?"

"C'n see, within reason, hear, smell... 'n feel, feel everythin' - breeze, warmth, touch... and the sun. Never thought I'd say that again... Felt the sun on skin, well sort of skin I suppose." Spike paused for a moment and looked down at his own nude form.  
"Gotta say Harris, done a mighty fine job o' me various bits, just like I remember, better even."

Xander blushed again and tentatively reached over to stroke down Spike's outstretched arm. "I um... Is this OK? I mean you kind of don't have a choice when I have to oil you, but..."

"No need for Mr Coy... Soon as I'm back for real I fully intend to thank you good 'n proper. Like I said online, you need some educatin' in the bein' thanked department 'n I figure I'm the one to do it. So... keep the pettin' up and let's have a bit of a talk 'bout the more general yeah? How's about we start with the financials?"

What ensued was a to the point frank disussion of Spike's investments, a go ahead of the purchase of a hotel in the east of Phuket, Thailand and another in the upper region of Jaipur, India, and instructions to seek a similar property in Shanghai. Spike then gave Xander a few tips regards his own investments before matters turned to more personal issues.

"Is there anything you need Spike? I mean I know you don't eat or anything... but..."

"Like you to do me a favour, pet. Stand a chap in the sun for a day would you? I mean, I know it's been cold of late, but..."

"Oh! Of course... I'll get Matti to help tomorrow if it's fine."

"And let me stay here the night... you know after this little sojourn into semi-real... Just while you sleep... Like to feel you... hear you breathe... I um..." Spike paused for a moment and stared out to 'sea' from their beach before looking back at Xander with a touch of sadness and longing, then added quietly, "That's if you don't mind."

Xander reached up and stroked down the chiseled cheek and jawline then leaned over and kissed Spike chastly on the lips whispering, "Anything... I guess I'd better go now though... Willow and the Mistress will want to head off and I need to tell them... well that we've made real progress."

"Yeah luv, you do that... and Xan?"

Xander pushed up on one arm and looked directly into Spike's eyes, "Hmm?"

"Thank you." Spike leaned up and returned the soft kiss of moments ago.

Xander reluctantly left his state of rest and came to full consciousness in his bedroom, once again next to his inanimate friend. He came with a sense of immense calm and a smiling Willow and Yollanda waiting patiently for some sort of feedback.

"He's OK Wills... well sort of... as well as you can be in... We talked and... He's Spike."

Yollanda was the first to respond, "Then it is well. We will keep contact as we have today and as you become more adept at the meditation you will find the connection becomes easier, more complete. This augers well for the final transition. You are a good student and a good soul Xander. You have done well."

Xander moved to sit up but felt an overwhelming sense of fatigue, observed immediately by Willow who pushed him gently down onto the bed once more. "Relax Xan. If you are comfortable, just stay. We'll let ourselves out, as long as..."

Xander fell back onto the pillow and looked across at his long time firend, "Thanks...Spike said he wanted to stay here for the night, you know, just be... so yeah. And..." Yawn. "Sleep of the good. Thanks."

As promised, lights were turned out as the two wiccans let themselves out quietly with no more said.

..............

Spike had felt Xander all night, the warmth, the soft touch, the breathing, the waking call of birds in the morning, and the joy of lying on a soft surface with the pulse of Xander's heart providing a steady rhythm to mark out the hours of rest before the coming day, and Spike felt... content. He had a means of communication, he had the comfort of a friend touching him, and he had hope. Hope for what he was still unsure of, but hope for... and he hadn't let himself think that far ahead before, but now it was for... what the future *might* hold, or even just the status quo.

The following fine morning Spike returned to full awareness as Xander and Matti's strong arms lifted him from Xander's bed and placed him against his tree trunk in full sun on the paved area outside the south-eastern wall of Xander's cottage. It was glorious. He could now put sounds to sights and people,and was admired by all who passed as 'Xander's latest creation'.

He watched as the postman came and went, the children of coven members sought out their peers and younger outsiders arrived for the day. Now he could see the chickens and ducks grazing in the closest paddock and spied the odd sheep or three in the distance, and he felt the warm. The mild sunshine of a pretty autumn day heated first his legs, then crept up his torso, onto his arms and the left side of his face. 

As the day waned, he watched the reversal of the proceedings of the morning. The air took on a chill and the wind picked up indicating rain so he was relieved when Xander and company collected him and placed the precious carving inside.

Xander was in an odd mood when he returned to the cabin and began oiling the statue. "This is the last time I have to... you know... do your bits with oil... I... Spike tomorrow we have someone coming to photograph, you know... you..." 

Spike was somewhat saddened to note Xander's apparent lack of usual interest as the oiling proceded. He worried it was something he had said or done the previous evening during their time on 'Xander's beach', but was unable to do anything beyond resolve to ask directly when given the chance.

He watched silently as Xander invested in the two hotels as instructed and was pleased to see the man push some of his own money into the oil stocks he knew were moving forward.

And then the ladies arrived as they had the night before but this time seemed particularly excited.

Willow was hardly in the door before she began to speak at pace, "Illyria made contact today, Xan. Before we get going we have to talk."

 

Part 15

Spike was facing in slightly the wrong direction so he was unable to see Willow as she spoke but listened with interest as the events of the day within the coven were related to Xander.

"Illyria contacted me around lunchtime. As we thought, the added energy needed to make Spike 'real' again has to come from more than just the earth. Not to say that we have to be anywhere in particular, but as I thought we would be in a better position to garner the sun's electromagnetic influence if we head for one of the poles. Since it's coming up for winter it's not going to happen any time soon, but in six or so months we can be in position. It will take a solar flare for the best results but that gives us a couple of days from detection to when high energy particles arrive here. If we are near the poles the concentration will be highest."

Xander moved over to the statue and gently touched Spike's raised arm, "But how does that help exactly?"

"The sort of power we need to help Illyria from her electromagnetic state just isn't available unless there is a major earthquake or something like the Carrington event in the direct vicinity. Sunspots are much more regular and the more concentrated the magnetic field of the earth, the better the energy is channeled to where we need it. Also we can call the covens together without arising too much suspicion. Illyria was adament that we not alert Wolfram and Hart or any other nefarious groups to what we are doing."

The discussion continued and despite the soft touch of his friend, Spike worried. To date there had been no problem with the law firm, but he knew better than to think they would not be interested in Illyria's plans were they made known. He resolved to say something to that effect to Xander but for now was forced to wait and listen.

"So Spike is stuck like this for another six months plus? But Wils how is that fair. I mean... You said an earthquake, they happen all the time don't they?"

"Yes but I did some research and the electromagnetism associated happens just before a big event and it just doesn't give us the time or any guarantees that it would be enough to push the change. Besides a lot of the activity is in remote areas like Tibet and so on. We will need a powerful gathering to channel the energy properly, and even then it's touch and go. Xan it's our best chance. I know Spike can hear all this but... Just talk to him Xan, see what he feels about it."

Spike could see the disappointment and worry on Xander's face and wished he could reach out to reassure the caring friend. Six months was, in the bigger picture of his hundred and seventy or so years, but a blink of an eye, and if each night could be in good company and days filled with rest and sunshine on occasion then he counted himself lucky.

Like the previous evening, Spike's form was carefully placed in Xander's bed and the man joined him. He relished the softness of the cover and the feel of the dip of the bed as the strong male form relaxed and prepared to commune with his old friend. This time Willow and the Mistress simply presided rather than chanting, the hope being that Xander would be able to meditate strongly enough alone that he would eventually be able to make contact without need of a boost of the witches' energies.

It took a little longer than the previous evening but success was eventually forthcoming and Xander found himself once more on the secluded beach he had come to visualize for the past few evenings. A smiling Spike was again lying beside him, sun kissing his pale form, blue eyes reflecting the colour and calm of a broad imagined ocean.

"Hey there pet."

He reached over to touch Spike's face, and smiled back, encouraged that he had made the transition by himself. "Hey yourself."

f"Need to tell you sommit fer the record as it were." Spike pushed up on one elbow and stared straight into Xander's good eye, noting that even in his meditative form, the other eye was missing. "Want to thank you for today in the sun... Brilliant. 'N you're to stop worryin' 'bout me. Six months is nothin' in the big picture, 'n we have this in the meantime. We keep meetin' like this in company for too many more days an' the witches'll be all a blushin' , that is assumin' you're not averse to a bit of Spiked pleasure... 'cause... seems only fair don't you think?"

Xander felt himself blush and hoped that the flush of interest to his nether regions would be well covered by the duvet in real life, nevertheless could not help but ask, "But I thought... you know... Buffy... Drusilla... um... You know... hello... *girls*."

"'M a vampire, pet, or have ya forgotten. 'N must say, if this..." Spike pressed in against Xander's side and placed a hand on Xander's obvious erection, "...is any indication seems like you could do with some action, even if it does have to be here and like this for a bit. No more thoughts of that webcam?"

Xander groaned and threw his arm over his eyes as a well practiced cool hand began to stroke him in earnest. "You're incorrigible"

"Ah now see that luv, already havin' a good influence on you. Now lie back and enjoy. Only time I get to do this for the moment innit."

Xander enjoyed the firm touch of a man he was fast coming to love in a quiet way that had a definite maturity to the experience. Spike had known him since high school, there was no need to hash over past insicurities, and had saved his life more times than he could count in the Sunnydale days. Spike had seen the best and worst of him, as he had of Spike. They had alternately liked and hated each other, respected and baited, defended and attacked, seen desperate and jubilant, lost and found each other, and now... now there was no need for words as Xander leaned into the touch of someone he for whom he was protector and friend.

Xander let himself come with a sigh, only belatedly worrying that the women in the room might have noticed. In the aftermath they spoke quietly of the plans to photograph Spike the following day. The planned trip to Finland was well in the future, for now it was enough to enjoy each other as they would each night until any possible change in the coming summer.

 

A day later saw all hands on deck as the statue was manouvered into the main house and placed in the bay window of the library. The sun fell on Spike's face and he rested back and enjoyed yet another view of the garden, this time watchng with pleasure as the children of coven members fed chickens and grazing ducks within sight of his window and the Mistress's choice of Beethoven piano sonatas played quietly in the background.

Wiccans came and went from the library at various times in the morning and around midday (marked by the chime of a grandfather clock somewhere in the hall) the front doorbell rang signalling the arrival of the photographer from Adrianna's gallery. 

Spike's figure was to be shot in situe and a photographer's silver umbrella and bright lights were set up as appropriate. The effusive Benny fussed around while his bored looking assistant Levi simply followed instructions for the setup. A rather rushed Xander arrived in time to be cajoled into sitting next to his work, Spike happy that the instruction that the sculptor rest his hand on Spike's bent knee meant that his 'privates' would be obscured from public view in the shot.

The shoot was swift but Spike felt increasingly annoyed as Benny seemed to make a play for Xander. Inuendo and posturing hinting that a) Xander was a closet gay and b) Benny was interested in male erotica and mildly annoyed that his obviously forward comments were brushed off politely. Something also niggled at Spike, something Illyria had said about keeping a low profile. It was a rather belated worry, but then again this was simply a piece in an art magazine, and he was a *statue* sculpted by Alexander Harris, "Adonis at Rest". And yet... 

He resolved to pass a message to Willow regards his mild concern but there was nothing that could be said or done for now. The catalogue would not be ready for distribution until at least November and by then Xander's new collection of small statuettes and a number of exquisite furniture pieces would be ready. So he waited as the room was packed up and tried to count his blessings as he felt his form carried in three sets of strong arms back to its usual place in Xander's abode.

............

It was early December and the first snow of the season fell outside his window. Willow had left for South America late October after Xander's ability to commune with Spike had been assured, and only after the pattern of each day was well established. 

Spike was lifted into Xander's bed, whoever helped withdrew and Xander and he talked, planned and just... were. Xander then slept, greeted him in the morning with a kiss to his wooden temple, and some time later Matti would assist his mentor to lift the statue carefully back to its pedestal. 

Matti had had the reason for the need to have the statue reclining in Xander's bed (as regards to contact with Spike for the meditations at night) explained to him. Indeed he had been in the group that had been called upon to provide the initial boost to inculcate Spike's essence into the statue, but as time went on and the statue was unchanging, had his own doubts regards the reality of the whole situation, but held his tongue. Whatever 'spun Xander's dial' was his business. The man was a great teacher and obviously a gifted artist with a past he only partly understood (Watcher Andrew's convoluted lecture on the 'Sunnydale Days' at the beginning of November in no way helping!)

The Festive Season gallery catalogue out on December 1st, featured 'Newly established USA artist with his 'MasterPeace' for the season' on the cover, and short, complimentary story about the coven and Xander's (and Matti's) work within. The response had been an enthusiastic one and two more photo shoots with notable London art magazines ensued. Adrianna was ecstatic as the demand for both men's work and patronage of her gallery escalated. But it was a visitor to Mistress Yollanda late afternoon on the winter solstice that took Xander by surprise.

Giles rarely made contact with the wiccan community, other than Willow, preferring to take an strictly consultative/advisory role with the New Watchers' Council, and he had certainly restricted his contact with Xander to polite cards on birthdays and Christmases.

Giles pushed open the door of Xander's workshop without announcement just after Matti and he had donned face masks and began their post luncheon sanding session of a commissioned oak table top (and filligre legs). The aging Giles was flanked by the Mistress and a statuesque twenty something woman Xander assumed was another watcher. 

Xander immediately reached to throw off the power, pulled his mask off, and moved to greet the new company, all acts mirrored by his protege. 

Giles took of his thick woollen gloves and extended a hand to Xander who adjusted his eye patch then stepped over to him and shook it with an easy smile, "Giles! What brings you to Xander's house of sawdust and wood? I thought you'd be Yuletiding with your council buddies."

"Yes well... I actually came at the Mistress Yollanda's behest. She thought I might be interested in speaking to the wiccan group, guest speaker as it were, for the Winter celebrations. This is Sarah by the way, she is one of our brightest trainee Watchers according to Andrew." Xander nodded toward the woman, "Nice to meet you."

Giles continued, "I am intrigued to see your latest work. It seems you are making quite a name for yourself in the art world, congratulations."

"In no small part due to the coven, and of course Matti here." Matti shook Giles' hand a little shyly then moved back to the work bench, picked up a broom and began pushing the shavings and sawdust that had accumulated during the morning's work into a neat pile.

Giles looked around the workshop with interest. There was an impressive array of works in progress, including several ornate furniture pieces that were in their final stages of sanding, a number of completed statuettes ready for lacquering and the beginnings of a tallboy obviously being constructed of recycled mahogany. 

"You've sold the 'Adonis'? Just that I was expecting it to be in the library where the photo was taken."

"What? No! Didn't the Mistress..." Yollanda was standing behind Giles and shook her head and frowned slightly. They had all agreed that the fewer people who knew of Spike's current predicament the better, and despite the seven or eight photographs of the sculpture, there were none that captured Spike's face fully, rendering his identity still unknown. But if Giles saw Spike 'in all his glory' there was no doubt questions would ensue. Nevertheless Xander led the visiting trio to his cabin leaving Matti to finish the clean up.

Spike's form was facing the window as usual, Xander always careful to leave the room well heated and quiet music of Spike's choosing playing. The selection was always the subjet of some discussion the night before and often the source of surprise from Xander's perspective when the request was for classical, adagio and romantic in nature, Spike's excuse being that there was "...noone decent enough in mother's circle at the piano to..." followed by "Just play the bloody recordin' you twat, an' stop askin' questions a chap 'd rather avoid!" After which there was the inevitable kiss and make up, something that made Xander ever more aware and protective of Spike's current vulnerable state.

Xander busied himself at the kitchenette, indicating the lounge to Sarah, who (in Xander's opinion) smiled a little too widely and seemed to take an undue interest in his photo collection. Nevertheless his attention fell to Giles, despite the fact that he had yet to examine the sculpture closely, was moved to stroke down the strong right arm of the scuplture with the back of his hand, reeling back as a short sharp shock seemed to come from the surface of the carving. Sarah looked up as the ageing ex Watcher pulled back as though bitten by the wood, Giles caught the desperate, worried look exchanged between Mistress and Xander but misunderstood the sentiment. He pulled his forefinger to his mouth and exclaimed "Good Lord Xander, I confess I found a splinter!"

Xander sent a quick look of relief to Giles and exclaimed quickly, "Oh! Sorry G-man... Must have missed one."

Giles fell into an old pattern easily, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket with his sore hand and pulling off his glasses with the other for a swift polish, "Indeed... Now where is that tea."

The rather overly formal Sarah was swiftly directed to the lounge, tea was served and polite discussion directed toward the evening of winter solstice celebrations and the Watchers' roles over the next few days. In the end it was the Mistress who gave the older man and his former student time for a private dialogue by inviting the young Sarah to supper with the wiccans whilst the Sunnydale 'alumni' caught up.

Pushing the door shut as Sarah and Yollanda made their way up the path to the coven, Xander sighed with some relief but it was Giles who spoke first.

"I am impressed by your work Xander. But surely the rather accurate depiction of Spike in the 'raw' as it were is a little unnecessary. Willow seems to think it was wise we spoke directly. Do you want to tell me what is going on... or am I to guess?"

Xander felt a little on the back foot, but if Willow had pointed Giles in his direction then there must have been a reason, and despite the rather strained relationship between coven and Watchers' Council, Giles was a 'good guy' and an old friend. He decided to start with an easy topic, "Well I have been doing a fair bit of work on my meditation and of course teaching... I enjoy it here... I really do."

Giles settled onto the couch and accepted an offered biscuit with his tea, "Yes you've made quite an impression I see. But in Willow's letters she alluded so some sort of difficulty... with an old friend. I am assuming it is from one of your... ahem... friends from the United States."

Xander looked decidedly uncomfortable, but decided to go with the flow. He knew of Spike's dislike for all things Watchers' Council... albeit the new council was a great deal more considerate of their position in the bigger picture of demons vs humans and was tutoring their slayers likewise. "I um... yes it's someone from there. We've sort of... reconnected, and I kind of need to help him out."

"Xander if you are in some sort of... legal or financial difficulty with this person, I'm sure it can be resolved with the right advice. Are you in contact regularly?"

"Well yes... pretty much daily... and financially I'm fine in fact S.. this person has really helped in that department. Plus living here is all of the good when it comes to that. I contribute to the coven for my bed and board like the next person... and then there's the art... So no financial and legal all clear."

Giles paused for a moment to take a sip of his tea and considered his next question carefully, "So... you have feelings... for 'him'?"

Xander was unsure of what Willow had said and certainly wasn't going to reveal Spike's presence or condition just yet, so went with the idea of telling the truth with ommissions for now, aware that Spike could hear every word. "It... yes... A bit unexpected but a very big yes." Xander thought of all the times in the past months that he and Spike had relaxed on 'their beach' talking about everything and nothing, touching gently, learning each other's history (or more accurately, details about Spike's very long life - edited where necessary for Xander's benefit). And the more they had spoken the deeper the friendship had become, early snide remarks and innuendo giving way to quiet dialogue and genuine laughter at some of the more embarrassing or ridiculous moments, and when the occassion called, tears and comfort.

"Is it the fact it is a male to whom you are attracted that is the problem, because I would have expected the members of the coven to..."

"What? No! Well not everyone knows obviously..." Xander looked up to see Giles smiling rather knowingly.

"My dear fellow, I could see that for a mile. I gleaned you are quite the flavour of the month amongst the younger wiccans - and I suspect being one of the few males here and 'on staff' as it were, would attract some measure of female admiration. Nevertheless, it must be... um... difficult to conduct a relationship outside the confines of the coven."

"Well not so much that... I um... We make contact pretty much every day. It's just... well it's kind of hard to explain."

"I see... and you are worried regards... your sexual orientation perhaps? Xander being attracted to men, or even just a particular man, is hardly unusual, and in this day and age I suspect would hardly raise an eyebrow. You met through your art?"

"You could say that." Xander smiled, a little embarrassed, as he thought of the first 'oiling' activities of a few months past.

"And the relationship has progressed I take it... He reciprocates your feelings?" 

Xander looked whistfully at the statue, "I think so... but we can't sort of... He's kind of stuck for the moment... Where he is, you know..."

"And this makes you... what? Frustrated? These things take time Xander. My advice is that you enjoy the moment... tell him how you feel in no uncertain terms. If it is meant to be and you are both clear it will work out somehow..." Giles looked toward the statue then at Xander's computer and its background of a montage of photos of Spike. "I can't help but ask, but you do seem a little... ahem... I assume your friend knows that Spike was... It just seems to me that he would perhaps assume another interest." 

Xander sat back for a moment then realized where the older man was looking and what he might assume. "What? No! Um..."

Giles turned back and looked him square in his good eye, "My dear fellow, I do have some idea of our... losses as it were... in Sunnydale... I'm assuming Willow, or at worst Andrew, told you that Spike came back but was consequently dusted in the final battle with the Black Thorn in Los Angeles over three years ago... I *do* assume you know that."

Xander broke the stare but held his resolve and spoke only the truth, "Yes... yes I did know. The pictures...", he nodded toward the screen, "Were only so I could get the sculpture... Anyway... It all worked out, sort of."

"Yes, yes I see. That is as may be, but... I suppose I am simply intigued as to why you felt it necessary to carve his form quite so precisely, it does seem to point to an obsession of sorts, or is there more to it? It's just that Spike did have rather a habit of 'turning up' after apparently dusting, and it would certainly interest the Council were he to have somehow done it again." Giles seemed to be fishing for something but when Xander merely shrugged and looked at the floor apparently embarrassed.

Giles seemed to consider him for a moment, then changed gears, "Please don't mistake me Xander, I most certainly I applaud your skill. And do let Willow know how you get on. She is a good friend Xander, and cares for your happiness a great deal, as do I. And please feel free to call me or even bring your friends up to London for a weekend. You are welcome, both welcome, to stay at my flat at the Council... I am often away if that makes it easier, and there won't be any questions asked if I arrange it, I'm sure. Does 'he' have a name?"

Xander was still processing the offer as he answered, "Sp... William... William... And I'm not sure if he... we..."

Giles seemed to relax a little, confident that Xander was at least willing to consider the options. He leaned over and patted Xander on the knee and stood to leave, "The offer is there. Now I'd better get back to the coven, I have to prepare for tomorrow's lecture, and word up Sarah. She can be a bit... officious as it were, when it comes to Council dogma, I suspect its her corporate law background that informs that. I'm hoping this little excursion will allow her to see the value in magical communities pulling together a little more, particularly when it comes to the coven/watchers relationship."

Giles departed just as Matti came to the door to assist Xander in shifting the statue for a night of rest

..........

As soon as Spike was in place and Matti left, Xander forewent dinner, quickly checked on Spike's investments, then wasted no time stripping and joining his sculpture under the covers as was usual. His meditation did not come easily as his mind kept wandering back to the conversation with Giles, had he inadvertantly pointed the old Watcher to Spike's presence? Could Giles feel the magic in the sculpture when he touched it? And why would the Council be so interested in Spike anyway?

Finally he found his beach, but only after a frustrated hour that included him getting up twice - once to put soft music on and a second time to light some incense Willow had given him to try to assist his transition into the relaxed state.

His meditative self finally rolled toward the pale male form beside him, to be greeted by, "Bloody Watchers... Giles was tryin' for sommit... Bloody Hell."

 

Part 16 

Spike's eyes did not turn gold as would have been the case in the past, but the sentiment was one shared by both men. 

Xander felt decidedly protective, and worried by his 'performance' in front of Giles. "I... Did I say anything wrong? Spike you could hear... Did I give anything away by mistake?"

Spike rolled onto his side and pushed up on one elbow. Today there was a blue beach blanket under them courtesy of Xander's efforts to imagine the experience. The ex-vampire smiled sadly, "No pet, but the longer this goes on the more tricky it becomes. Just promise me... Burn me bloody ediface rather than let any lawyer or the Watchers take me. Got better things to do with this unlife than stand in some back room bein' dusted off to give some set of wankers their jollies. Present company notwithstandin' o' course. " 

"I... do you think he knew? I was trying not to... you know..."

"You did fine pet. Jus' fine. 'N thank you. If aught the Watchers think is yer a screaming queen with a fetish fer devilishly handsome ex-vampires then no harm no foul."

Xander relaxed a little but still levelled a rather worried chocolate coloured eye at Spike's blue pair, "I just... want to keep you safe until we... you know..."

"Make me a real boy? Reckon you did yer best mate. Just... p'raps be on guard yeah?"

"Big yeah from me..." Spike leaned up and accepted a kiss, Xander appreciating once more, how tolerant Spike was of a near impossible (and most certainly improbable) status.

"Just do us a favour would you?"

"Anything."

"Move me a little further from the heater of a daytime would you? Don't fancy meself with a burn marked backside 'n not really able to shuffle aside as it were when the goin' gets hot." 

"Oh Ghod! Did I...? Have you...?" A worried Xander sat up immediately to check Spike's pale form, only pausing when a snort of mirth and "Harris you really are daft sometimes... Happy figment of your lovely imagination at the mo' aren't I." 

Xander had the decency to look a little embarrassed but added, "I'll still check in the morning."

"You do that pet... check as much o' me as you like."

Xander lay back and threw his arm over his face for a moment, "Gahh, you really are..."

"Devilishly handsome? All thanks to you now, ain't it pet. Careful for what you wish for an' all that." 

The remainder of their sojourn on the beach was spent briefly discussing some business matters, then simply enjoying eah other's company and comfort. 

The following day Xander did as he had promised Giles and sent a message of "Giles said you told him you were worried about me. I'm fine, so's you know who. How's Ecuador?" 

He was surprised when the computer pinged as he was fixing some lunch for he and Matti. The reply in his inbox marked urgent and as baffling as it was worrying. "Haven't been in touch with Giles since summer solstice and then not about you. Will call asap. Something's up. xxoo W" 

Xander worried for the rest of the day but really could do nothing but work a little harder at his current tallboy project. Matti noted the furrowed brow but said nothing, focussing instead on the final sanding of a table top and assisting the two young wiccans who had come down for their regular woodworking session.

Willow's call came just as they were doing a final tidy up for the evening. Xander excused himself immediately and took his cellphone into the garden behind the workshop.

"Xander? Oh thank Gaia... this will have to be quick."

"Go ahead..."

"I've been wracking my brains to try to remember if I've said anything in passing about you or Spike to Giles and it's all a big nothing."

"So why would he say... you know... that stuff. He really was trying for something."

"I'm not sure Xan, all I can think of is that the Council would be curious regards Spike and maybe they just want to keep tabs on you... You know ex Scoobie that sort of thing."

"But why the, as Spike put it, 'ruse' of being concerned about me? And what's with the new Watcher? Matti seems to think she's going to be a regular visitor... Wills it just doesn't seem to ring true. Or am I just being paranoid?"

"If it helps Xan, the Summer Solstice arrangements are set. Can I make a suggestion though?"

"Suggest away."

"Could you do another carving, you know of 'Adonis'? If the Council or someone else starts poking around too much, well it might put them off. Talk to the Mistress. She's up on some of this and I really think she should know the full extent of your worry... Look I've got to go. I'll try to Skype again tomorrow same time."

"Thanks Willow, I'll think about a twin for you know who. Take care yeah?"

"You too Xan... bye."

Xander tucked the phone into his back pocket and returned to the workshop where a rather agitated Sarah was quizzing Matti about the intricacies of Xander's collection and processes involved in making each piece.

Matti looked decidedly grateful to see Xander, "Here he is. You can ask him that yourself."

With that Sarah turned to face Xander. She was an attractive brunette in her late thirties, though her hair was pulled back into a bun giving her the appearance of someone a good deal older. She smiled at Xander though he noted that there was no warmth in the gesture. "I was just asking Matti here where your inspiration comes from Xander. Giles tells me you started out in regular construction, how did you discover your talent for sculpting?"

"I guess it just kind of happened." Xander moved over to the workbench and continued packing up the tools ready for the following day. When Sarah didn't move for some time he turned to her and finally said, "Is there something else I can help you with, just that we'll be finished here in five."

"Oh I just thought I could have another look at your 'Adonis', that is if you have no objections. I find it rather fascinating that you found it necessary to keep it in your cabin rather than here or in the big house. I would have thought you would want to have it on full display surely? Especially after such a wonderful write up in so many art magazines."

"I... well it needed some more work... oiling that sort of thing... and that takes time for such a big piece... I do that in my spare time, you know... that way it will be done properly." Xander could tell the woman wasn't going to be put off another viewing of Spike, but he resolved to make *sure* she didn't make direct contact with Spike's wooden form. He indicated the door of the workshop and led her to his cabin, flashing a rather worried look to Matti as he passed.

Sarah ushered herself into the room and quickly made her way to the carving, mobile phone in hand ready to take pictures, Xander close on her heels.

“I… I’d prefer if you didn’t touch the sculpture.”

Sarah turned momentarily but seemed to acquiesce then take slight offence, “No, of course not. I am not a complete novice at art appreciation. In my old office I had an original Szaljo tapestry and several Janovich bronzes!”

Xander tried to look contrite but also decided to do a little of his own ‘fishing’, his old ‘jovial’ with side serve of ‘naïve Sunnydale donut boy’ kicking in with ease. “Oh! Wow… Sorry… I just… What did you do, before, you know, before Watcher central and all that?”

A rather haughty, yet offhanded answer ensued as Sarah moved to switch on all the lights in the simple living room and lined her phone camera up for the ready, “I would have thought Mr Giles would have filled you in. I qualified to the bar prior to my interest in the occult.”

Xander tried to look interested and just a little baffled, hoping he pulled it off by commenting, “Oh? I pulled beer too, in Oxnard over one summer.”

Sarah turned after checking her shot and looking just a little annoyed. The first shot marked by a flash didn’t really capture the statue’s face, so her answer was somewhat distracted, “Bar meaning Barrister at Law, my specialty was corporate disputes, on a team of course, Wolfram and Hart, I’m sure you’ve heard of them. Now I just need… Do you have a lamp or something we can use? This light really is not giving a good representation.”

Xander decided to play the ‘dumb but helpful’ card, “Sure, um, give me a second…” As he rummaged around in an old wall cupboard, he commented, “Wolfram and Hart… They’re the ones Watcher Andrew talks about. But… in they’re in LA aren’t they? Hang on… [grunt]” Xander pulled out an ancient reading lamp with no bulb. “Taa dah!”

Sarah seemed much more intent on her task to be bothered wondering why the carpenter was asking questions, and particularly annoyed that she was not going to get a more revealing shot, and even more annoyed that the man was not better informed. “Of course they are we… they… have head offices in most capitals of the world… Do you have a globe?”

“I can check… Nope… sorry.”

Sarah huffed then muttered under her breath, “Andrew was right… all brawn, no real brains. Any wonder he ended up here.” Then more audibly, “Oh don’t worry, I think I have what I need.” With Xander still distracted she feigned a small trip and reached toward the statue, Spike relieved when she connected with the leaning post rather than his being, and hoping beyond hope that there was no transference of magical energy.

Sarah was within Spike’s range of view and he saw (with some relief) that she frowned. Xander swiftly moved over with bulb-less lamp in left hand and took her nearest upper arm with his right. “You OK? Geez, look… if you’ve got the shots you need… maybe it’s time to you know, go.”

Sarah made a point of ‘dusting off’ before turning and giving Xander a rather cold glare. “Fine and yes I think I’ve seen enough. Just one thing intrigues me…” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial purr, “What is it about the vampire Spike that spins your dial? It seems this sculpture is a more than accurate representation….”

Bingo. And Xander was ready, for effect he pulled off his eye patch and sat heavily on the kitchen chair closest, and hoped he could shed an appropriate tear. He stared at his own hands and drew from sentiments that were genuine, “He… he was a hero to the last… and saved my other eye in a battle I’d rather not go into. But there were other casualties… Anja… my sweet brave… intended wife… and my p…” Xander paused, not for effect but with the still raw grief that remembering the last days of Sunnydale always managed to produce. 

He composed himself enough to brush over the rest of his own history, “Mum, Dad, then so many others… in Africa, there, here… people die… and sometimes all you can do is honor them in art… in some small way… in art…and I don’t care… human, demon, perfect, imperfect, whatever! I’m not to judge… Goddess! (if that’s what you say) Who am I to judge… Imperfection an art-form here”

Xander was genuinely upset by the time he had finished, but the reaction from Sarah was observed by Spike. Ever the astute judge of people, the ex-vampire saw her shoulders relax and tighten as she gave her ‘corporate’ reply. “I am sorry for your loss(es) and thank you for your time.” 

Sarah snapped her phone closed and ushered herself out as swiftly as she was able, without ‘tipping off’ the obviously damaged Sunnydale expat. Giles had been wrong. The statue held no special essence by her own feeling, but there was certainly something going on with Xander and the carving… something that was probably best left in the annals of ‘weird and wonderful sexual practices’. Still, she would do what she had been asked, and report her findings to her former boss at Wolfram and Hart London office, Lilah, and continue to be vigilant as required by her monthly retainer. 

 

Two nights after Giles and Sarah departed Xander took delivery of yet another few large pieces of wood in anticipation of his new collection. One particularly large shoulder of cedar was immediately dealt with. The preliminaries of Spike’s ‘twin’ carved out and Matti and he moved the rough object to his lounge room just after midnight.

 

Part 17

The following two weeks saw Xander working not just during the day, but also late into every night in an effort to accurately represent Spike a second time.

For Spike it was an odd experience to watch as his ‘twin’ began to emerge in full glory. 

The Winter Solstice had come and gone, as had the ‘Season Celebrations’. Willow’s contact was intermittent but encouraging and while he was still working on the ‘twin’ Xander continued the habit of placing Spike in his bed of an evening, though more often than not, fell into an exhausted sleep before making mental contact, merely flinging his arm over the bed warmed wood and saying good night.

Spike didn’t mind. The warmth of the human next to his form and the soft bed and covers were enough and he could wait.

Toward the end of May, Spike’s twin was completed and had been moved back into the coven big house. Only Matti, the Mistress and Xander knew the existence of the twin, but as he had pointed out to Willow, with Sarah still sniffing around it would be difficult if the statue just suddenly ‘disappeared’. 

After Adonis Mk II was in situ, the daily pattern did not include Spike being moved at all as his own leaning post was needed to complete the sculpture. Instead the morning routine involved Spike’s form being kissed, the curtains opened and he left to contemplate the world from a prone position with warm soft covers in place.

He particularly liked it when it rained on the old tin roof, and when few birds turned into many as spring arrived, singing in the trees close to Xander’s bedroom window. 

As expected, Sarah had been a regular visitor to the coven for the last few months, though had left Xander in peace with only one visit to the workshop to collect some tardy wiccans who were too busy watching Matti at work to note the time. The Mistress had listened to Xander’s concerns regards the Wolfram and Hart connection to the Watchers’ Council but counseled that it was best to ‘keep one’s enemies closer’. Xander (and Spike) were both grateful that the Mistress appreciated the gravity of any risk to their Summer Solstice plans. And apart from anything else, they still had to figure a way to transport a six foot plus wooden sculpture to the Arctic circle in the middle of one of the region’s great party periods.

Finances were on the up and up, and if Spike ever *did* become real, then his wealth was substantial thanks to Illyria’s tips and Xander’s vigilance, Xander also benefitting from the online ‘head’s up’ on occasion. And it was his personal transactions that seemed to trigger Wolfram and Hart’s direct interest.

Xander had ceased contact with Giles shortly after his initial visit, but for the occasional email reply to report he was ‘fine’, and in the end it was Adrianna who signaled the law company’s real intentions when she arrived (with entourage of photographers and reporters) at the coven. 

It was only three days until they boxed up Spike and took ferry, train and four wheel drive up to Lappi and Finland’s Ivalo coven for celebrations.

The Mistress was the first into the workshop, closely followed by Adrianna, photographer Renaldo, art critic Stefan, a London art dealer Xander had met once before Brigitte, Sarah (of course)… and finally a tall, leggy, immaculately dressed, brunette woman.

Xander cut the power to all tools and pulled off his safety goggles ready to greet the visitors. 

“Can I help you? Bit early for a delegation isn’t it?”

The Mistress spoke first, taking care to stare directly at Xander’s good eye and trying to convey that he (and Spike) had her full support.

“Xander, this is Lilah Morgan, a former colleague of Sarah’s. She’s come to our little coven particularly to look over your work.”

Xander stepped forward and offered the woman his hand, “Pleased to meet you, though I’m not sure that you’ll see much more here than in Adrianna’s gallery… She gets all the best of my best.” Xander received a cursory hand shake and felt just a little shiver. There was something about this Lilah’s demeanor that indicated that she would rather be anywhere else but standing in a workshop in her Valentino Garavini stiletto pumps.

Adrianna grinned broadly at Xander’s compliment then took over the conversation. “Wolfram and Hart are a very important client of my dear friend Brigette here and she was just dying to see your new works in progress, it is so wonderful to see the artist in his ‘natural habitat’ and of course your Adonis caused quite a stir up in London, I simply couldn’t say no when she said Lilah was heading our way and interested in seeing the piece in person.” 

As the others took a little time to look around the workshop, guided by Matti as to what each piece was to be or the stage of completion, Adrianna took Xander aside. “I’ve already told Brigette the piece is not for sale but she insisted that it could be loaned to her for the opening of their new gallery – right next to Harrods no less! She is happy to do the transport and insurance, and I’m sure there will be a fee for the loan. It’s a wonderful opportunity – and she’s prepared to take as many of the other pieces as you like on consignment.”

Adrianna could see that Xander was not quite convinced “Please think about it Xander and do talk to the Mistress, I’m sure the injection of funds, not to mention the tremendous publicity will be worth it.” 

The group adjourned to the big house shortly after and led to the library where the statue stood in the bay window, just as Spike had for the photos months before. Xander was hoping the ‘twin’ was adequate, and prayed to whichever deity it was that looked after ex-vampires that they would still be able to get Spike out of the country and safely restored in the next few weeks.

Tea and cakes were served to the guests while photographer Renaldo busied himself taking a few ‘art’ shots, detailed studies of parts of the figure and Xander very pleased to know that it was not to be Spike’s private parts front and centre in a gallery catalogue any time soon.

Lilah seemed a little off hand as she waved away the proffered home made fruit cake and continued to stare at the statue.

“It is an extraordinary likeness Mr Harris… Xander. I believe from Sarah, that you had quite a connection to William the Bloody, I wonder that you still do, given the accuracy of your depiction here.”

Xander moved uncomfortably in his seat. He knew for a fact that he had said nothing of any ‘William the Bloody’ to Sarah, but decided that truth with omission was the best strategy. “I was friends with him I guess you could say, you know in Sunnydale.”

“Ah yes Sunnydale, tragic losses, not our finest of projects.”

“Our?”

Lilah smiled knowingly then corrected herself, “Did I say our? I did mean your… the original Slayer and Council… had quite a struggle toward the end. Sad really. Still all’s well that ends well and here we are. You seem to have used your time and compensation monies rather well since then. Do you mind if I…?” Lilah stood and moved to what Xander considered too close to the statue, apparently looking for something in particular.

“Strange that there is no scar when all the rest is…”

Xander tried to look innocent, “Scar?” He had forgotten… the original, now lying in his bed, did indeed have the trademark scar through the left eyebrow, Xander wanting to keep the likeness as exact as possible. The twin had two complete eyebrows.

“Hmmm… it must just have been a trick of the light but I was sure I saw one in the magazine representation. No matter.” Lilah shot a quizzical look to Sarah who shrugged slightly, she couldn’t be sure it had been there. 

“Brigette I think it’s perfect for our… your needs and am sure that Wolfram and Hart can underwrite the opening exhibition provided of course this is front and centre and the Mistress and Mr Harris agree. After all it will simply be on loan, and once in London, I’m sure our own experts can do the insurance assessment and take all the appropriate steps to ensure its safety for the few months needed – it would be dreadful if something were to happen to it due to improper care.” 

Xander frowned. “It seems you are going to an awful lot of trouble for just this piece… um…” He looked desperately at the Mistress who simply shrugged. The Solstice trip would go ahead as planned and whether the twin was at the coven or in London really mattered little as long as Spike was safe.

“Give me a night to think on it… I um…”

Lilah smiled broadly, “I’ll send around all the relevant paper work in the morning – I’m sure you will see it our way… After all everyone needs a little recognition and I’m sure you will benefit from our patronage beyond this simple piece. You will of course be invited to the opening to rub shoulders with the cream of the art world – Wolfram and Hart have *many* powerful contacts as I’m sure you realize.”

With that Lilah picked up her small purse and moved to the door obviously ready to leave. Air kisses all around and five minutes later the group was gone.

 

Part 18

 

That night Xander spent time online attempting to contact Willow and was just about to give up when his computer pinged a strange message. “Sunspot cycle peaking. Get to destination ASAP. Tell witches. Three days max. I’ll deal with security. I”

Within seconds another message came, this time from Willow, “On Skype + encrypt with Mistress – in 5.”

Xander made his way directly up to the big house where the Mistress was already waiting for him in the study. “Xander…The messages came to me too.” Within seconds Willow was online to them.

“If Illyria’s right we have to move before the Solstice. I’ll move my flight to Helsinki but it’s still going to be tight. If I meet you in Rovaniemi Airport we can make it to Iolu in a day after that. Can you guys fly with you know who?”

Xander answered, “It’ll take some careful packing and a receipt of purchase from the coven there I guess – you know for customs but yes. We’ll do what it takes. But there’s another bit of a hitch at this end, still let us worry about that. Text time and date and we’ll be there. And Wills… cryptic is fine.”

“OK… and Xan… Mistress… You guys take care yeah?”

“Ditto Bye.”

The Mistress was looking decidedly worried as the line was broken. “We have a lot to organize Xander… Not least of which is the Wolfram and Hart desire to have the twin statue. Xander I think you should rest tonight. I will book tickets for you, Matti and myself for late tomorrow night. 

“I will call Adrianna at home now and suggest to her that you and I will sign all the documentation for the loan of the statue in the morning, and that she be personally in charge of its transfer to London, whenever that is to occur, and regardless of our presence or absence for the shift. I’m sure she will be pleased to have the pivotal role despite having to leave her own shop. I will perhaps suggest she might use one of your students to ‘fill in’. I will inform her that we are going on retreat in anticipation of Summer solstice – the where should be irrelevant. I am a little worried that you will be required at the opening, but it was my impression that it was still a month or two off. 

“I will then call Mistress Mikkaela head of our coven friends in Finland. They may be able to expedite our travel plans on the ground, and we will certainly need their boost if this is to work.

“I think you should make a list of the other pieces you wish to show – even if they are not quite ready, we will need to give that to Adrianna also. And of course speak to Spike. This change of plans is sudden. I cannot anticipate there will be any arguments against, but he will need to be boxed up for some time and must be prepared. Do we have the materials appropriate for that exercise?”

Xander was still in some sort of state of shock, everything was going so fast after so many months of waiting. “I… I um…Yeah sure… And… I’ll just need to know for sure that we can keep the sculpture in tact. It might take some extra things like a transport box, padding, that sort of thing. I guess we just have to do it. I… Is this all going to work out?”

Mistress laid a kind hand on the worried man’s shoulders, “Trust in our lady Gaia Xander. Things don’t always happen when we want them, but they do happen on time.”

Xander gave a tight smile and took his leave.

Returning to his home, Xander sat heavily on the couch and stared in silence at the empty space that had so recently and for so many months been the spot that Spike then his twin had stood during the day.

He had to find his passport, make a list of works, try to work out what he needed for the boxing of Spike for the trip, write an email to the community college to the effect that urgent family matters were taking him away from his weekly classes for at least a fortnight (and follow it with a phonecall in the morning), check his and Spike’s investments in anticipation for being away for however long this all took… oh and pack! And now all he felt was ridiculously tired as other questions flooded in. What if flights couldn’t be booked? What if they didn’t hook up with Willow? What if they were too late for the energy surge? What if Spike was lost or damaged in transit? What was Wolfram and Hart’s agenda? What happened after, if they *were* successful? And what did that even mean?

Finally after what seemed an eternity he pushed from the couch, grabbed his coat and walked the short distance to the workshop, pen and paper in hand.

The three inlaid tables were ready, the ornate tallboy was within a lick of lacquer complete, three intricate and rather beautiful statues of ‘sea maidens’ (based on Dawn’s pretty features) were complete and definitely should be included, and one ‘coral with mystery swimmer’ piece would also make his list. But the rest were just too far from ready if the exhibition was to open before he got back. 

He looked around for what he thought might serve as lightweight but strong planks of wood then fixed on the idea of purchasing the wood for a simple but effective coffin like structure, the wood for which would need to be purchased the following day. He drew up a rough plan and estimated he and Matti could ‘knock it up’ in an hour or so. Added to his list was a large roll of wide bubble wrap for around Spike’s form, three packing straps to fix him in place with straps and packing foam to be used to fill any gaps.

Notes taken, he picked up a soft cloth, wiped carefully over the tallboy removing all the dust, repeated the exercise with each (for now) of its separate drawers, levered open the lacquer tin, picked up a soft brush and began to meticulously apply the final coat. The act was one of quiet for his too full head.

Finally satisfied with his work, Xander packed up all items, leaving the paint to dry, switching off the fluorescent work lamps and returned home, lists in hand.

He had to talk to Spike, but before he adjourned to bed, conducted a quick review of their finances, reassuring him that money was available for emergencies should they need it. 

Finally he stripped off and lay beside the inert figure of Spike, the bed and wood cool from more than fifteen hours since he had warmed the space. He tried to relax, using every technique he could think of to push his mind and body into a state where he could make contact. On the third ‘body scan’ and bout of slow breathing he felt the slip and stepped out onto what he had come to accept as ‘their beach’. 

He walked across the warm sand and gentled himself down to lie beside the imagined version of Spike who rolled toward him and smiled sadly. “Trouble at mill?”

“You have no idea…” He reached over and spread his hand over Spike’s torso, feeling the connection and calming himself before answering properly.

“Then start from the beginnin’ pet…”

Xander went on to explain all the events of the day, nearly losing the connection as his jaw tightened remembering the visitors and the message from Illyria, but managed to take a few breaths before divulging the plans for the next two to three days. Several times during his diatribe, he could swear he heard Spike growl, something that the soon to be (hopefully) vampire had not done before in their current state.

There was a long pause after Xander finished, so much so that the intrepid ex-Scoobie rolled over with a very worried look on his face, “I… I’m so sorry Spike… It all just happened so…”

“Don’t fret Luv, ‘m used to rollin’ with the punches. Just tryin’ to figure the bit ‘bout bloody Wolfram and Hart is all. So far as I know Blue ‘n I just disappeared off their dial. All I c’n think is that they’re gonna try for the ‘reincarnate the evil Spike’ somehow. Here’s a hopin’ me twin bites ‘em well an’ proper if they’re successful.”

“But that makes no sense Spike! And what if they do it first… or better and you get stuck… or… I don’t know?”

Spike could sense his dear friend in meltdown mode so decided to give a reassuring pet before adding, “’S OK Luv. We’ll just have to trust in Santa land an’ a decent energy burst from the sun… An’ though I’m still not sure what her ladyship Illyria has in mind, but reckon I’d rather take the chance yeah?! Any way you c’n delay the shifting of Spike II?”

“I guess we could… I…”

“Look Pet, just make the moving instructions for all your works so bloody specific it will take ‘em more ‘n a week to deliver to London. By that time we should be all done, yeah?”

“I suppose that would work… but…”

“If all goes to pot ‘n I’m here forever it’s a future I’ll live with so long as you keep visitin’ nightly. Now how’s about you get some proper shut eye, sounds like tomorrow is gonna be a big day.” Spike rolled into a grateful kiss in their private realm before it all evaporated and he was back in position with a warm arm hugging his torso under a pile of familiar comfortable covers.

 

Part 19

Xander woke with a groan, far too early for his body’s liking and far too late as far as his brain told him. There was just so much to do in one day.

He rolled over and kissed the wooden form of Spike, knowing that it would probably be the last time… whatever happened. 

As he stood under a hot shower, head on the faucet to somehow wash the fatigue and worry away he reflected on the previous night’s talk. Spike had been so calm, so trusting, so accepting… there was something about that which made the next few days *so* much more important. He lowered his head and put both hands on the wall, closing his eyes and letting the heat and jet of water on the back of his neck allow him to focus on the necessary, and just prior to flicking the water off, sent a prayer to the Powers that Be, to Gaia, to his own version of the ‘whatever’ to look after Spike and make their venture successful… specifically to restore Spike.

Within minutes of changing and switching on the coffee, a knock on the door announced that the Mistress was also keen to get proceedings underway. A rather excited looking Matti was close on her heels.

“Good Morning dear heart. I do hope you slept well.”

“Hey… and yup…Well enough…”

“Then we are ready for a new day, thank Gaia. I have briefed Matti here on what I know. Perhaps it is best we combine forces to plan for today and beyond.”

“Of course! Come in…”

Xander’s dialogue with Spike was conveyed, the list of materials and rough sketch produced and Matti obviously pleased and honored to be included in the trip, and more importantly charged with the vital task of purchase and construction of the very special container. 

Overnight the Mistress had managed to secure a ‘purchase order’ plus invitation for ‘the artist and friend’ from the Lappi coven and airfares for all of them to first Helsinki, then on to Rovaniemi Airport, business class no less. 

It required they leave Heathrow at six am the following morning, and arrive at their Arctic Circle destination (delays notwithstanding) by twelve noon. They would be met by one of the Ivalo Coven around two hours later. Xander amazed to realize that Willow was already on her way and would connect with them all on a second Helsinki-Rovaniemi flight at five in the evening. Thanks to the lengthy summer days, they would proceed with the four hour drive north in full daylight.

As planned, the Mistress had also contacted Adrianna signaling Xander’s willingness to ‘loan’ the Adonis and the group were readying to depart for the village when Adrianna’s burgundy Mercedes sports car pulled into the drive. 

The Mistress nodded knowingly to Matti who peeled off to collect the coven’s old VW ‘combi-van’ (complete with home spun rainbow illustrations on the side), while she and Xander moved to greet the unannounced visitor.

A smiling Adrianna stepped from the vehicle, “Good Morning! Thank you *so* much for letting me know last night that you have agreed. Ms Morgan from Wolfram and Hart left me with the documentation regards the loan of Adonis, so thought I would come with the documentation personally. Wonderful, *wonderful* news for you, our gallery, and of course, Brigette! I’m sure it will be a triumph and the start of something far bigger!”

She was ushered up to the main house and offered tea, chatting easily with the Mistress as Xander read through the contract. 

It all seemed fairly standard and similar to the consignment contracts he had signed for Adrianna before, though Xander was surprised by the amount being offered the coven for the six month duration of the loan of ‘Adonis’. Ten thousand Euro was certainly generous in his opinion. The new gallery was to take twenty five percent in commission on all sales which was more than Adrianna charged but no doubt that was also within the normal range, and the names of all pieces and their valuation was to be provided by one week prior to transport. 

Of greater interest were the final two clauses, “In the event of damage to or destruction of pieces on loan to the gallery through any event whether in transit or at the gallery, the owner of said works shall be entitled to claim the full valuation of the works plus an additional twenty percent for any losses incurred due to the damage.” And finally, “In the event that the owner of art on loan should determine that the piece/pieces be offered for sale then it is the company of Wolfram and Hart Inc. that shall have a priory purchase opportunity.”

It all seemed relatively above board with space for the preferred price to be entered and small sticky markers on all pages where initials and signatures needed to be provided.

Xander would have loved Spike to have the opportunity to read over the terms but swapped places with the Mistress so she too might run an informed eye over the document. They both agreed in the end, both to a price for the piece and to sign.

Adrianna was thrilled and reassured the pair that all would be well taken care of, and that the date of delivery to London wasn’t until the end of the month. She patted Xander on the arm and added conspiratorially, “And don’t you worry darling, I have a dear friend who will give you *London* prices for the rest of your pieces.”

Xander smiled innocently and said, “I hope you are going to get something out of all this.”

“Don’t you worry, Sweetie.” She tapped a finger to her nose and winked, “Just being front and centre on the biggest opening of the year is enough for me.”

The rest of the conversation ran over the plans for the next few weeks. If all went well the Mistress and Xander would be back home before ‘twin Spike’ had to be prepared to travel.

As a very happy Adrianna headed down the road, Xander turned to the Mistress who simply said, “We’ll need to be on the road to Heathrow by two.”

“I’ll get packed. Matti and I will only be an hour or so as soon as he gets back.”

Xander returned home and pushed the last few items into his small duffle bag, and was relieved to see Matti returning with the truck laden with light weight wood and various other items.

Xander did a quick revisit of Spike’s measurements and began to wrap his form in bubble wrap, starting at the feet and meticulously wrapping then attaching the same with tape whilst Matti returned to the house to pack his own gear.

By the time he had wrapped the lower torso Matti was back and assisted in levering the carved form up enough that Xander had an easier time with the second half. Before he wrapped up the face and its pretty features he kissed Spike on the lips, and whispered “See you soon.” Matti still wasn’t convinced of Spike’s sentience but whatever spun Xander’s dial.

Extra Styrofoam was wedged under and between the limbs that were likely to have pressure on them in transit. The last thing Xander wanted was to arrive with an arm or leg snapped off. Finally the two adjourned to the workshop, wrapped figure carried between them. Spike was carefully laid on the workshop floor while Xander and Matti attended to the construction of what equated to a large coffin-like box.

Spike felt every one of the passes with the bubble wrap, eventually unable to hear anything but muffled sounds, smell anything but plastic, or see anything but light and dark. He wished he could reciprocate the kiss, but that was not to be. 

After around an hour the rough packing box was complete, Spike gently lowered in and any remaining space filled with small foam ‘packing peanuts’ and then all went black as the lid was nailed into place and the whole thing secured by travel straps for extra strength and ease of lifting in transit.

For Spike it was a little too reminiscent of his own coffin all those years ago, but there was little option than to bear the near terror feeling that seemed to have settled into his stomach. At least he didn’t have to breathe and the packing ensured he was comfortable.

The Mistress came down to the workshop twice during the packing process, once to bring the boys some freshly made bread, cheese and a cup of tea, and the second time to deliver the ‘order documentation’ courtesy of the coven in Finland and double check that they were on schedule to leave shortly after midday.

The trip to Heathrow was done in the old coven van and relative silence, though their driver, a young woman called Charice, did everyone the courtesy of putting on a classical station on the radio to address some of the tension they all felt.

Spike’s ‘box’ was checked in as part of their luggage, the combined weight a little over the limit and requiring a premium to be paid. More of a worry was the fact that the crate would be loaded with the general baggage – albeit in the oversize/special section, but luggage nevertheless. Fragile stickers were placed all over the container along with Helsinki-Rovaniemi transfers, the customs documents and import documentation, and the final address at Ivalo. Insurance was waived on the grounds that the coven had already organized special travel coverage for Matti, Xander the Mistress *and* their precious cargo.

And finally they were on their way.

……………..

In London, Lilah was thrilled to receive a phone call from the new gallery curator Brigitte. All the papers were signed and they would finally have their hands on the carving of the vampire ‘Adonis’ – Spike. 

She immediately rang the CEO of Wolfram and Hart, London. “…Yes, pass on that the package has been secured. One month hence, if not before. And if I might be so bold, a meeting with the warlock Levi and his team would be wise. We need to set up the lab in anticipation. And yes, the recommendation for Sarah Pickett should go through, she has been most useful, though Rupert Giles and the rest of the Watchers’ council should still be listed as ‘undecided’. I’m sure they’ll come on board once we have proven the usefulness of our venture.”

………………

Spike felt various bumps and knocks cushioned by his packing and despite the fragile status on his casing. Once loaded the take off was easy, the trip almost pleasant with the constant roar of jet engines audible despite the padding and the landing and transfer to the domestic Finnair flight a smooth one.

Not so for Xander who was on edge from the instant the precious cargo disappeared on the cargo conveyer belt and into a black hole along with other oversized and precious marked items. 

They sat three abreast for their trip to Helsinki, the Mistress whispering to Xander to relax and “…Trust Gaia, she will be with us.” when he nearly waved away the meal en route, finally opting for the ridiculously small plate of sandwiches and a complimentary beer. 

They cleared immigration and customs quickly in Finland, despite Xander having to take the ‘other passports’ line and some explanation re the imported art. However, in the end all was well and documents were stamped so they were well within time for their connecting flight to Rovaniemi. Xander was on the window seat and utterly relieved to see Spike’s crate loaded amongst the last baggage onto the Boeing 747. At least now if they fell from the sky, they all went down together.

They finally landed in Rovaniemi and were met by wiccans dark haired, blue eyed female Otti and her tall blonde male companion, Lars. They were welcoming and informative and to be the designated drivers the next day. Willow was due on the first flight the next morning, all going well and the decision had been made to spend the night at the City Hotel before picking up Willow and all making their way to Ivalo in the dual cabin four wheel drive truck the following morning.

Xander insisted they carry Spike’s box upstairs to Matti and his shared room which did cause some odd looks but there was no way he was going to risk leaving the precious cargo in the truck for the night, secure parking be damned… it was Spike.

Breakfast of ‘many different herrings’, cheese and a selection of unidentifiable breads was followed by coffee and the trip back to the airport to pick up the Mistress Willow, who looked decidedly worse for her two days of international travel. Hugs all around were followed by a quick walk to the car and they were finally on their way. 

Lars and Otti took turns driving and commentating. The road was narrow and rather rough in places, though sealed all the way. What stunned all the southern visitors was the terrain, huge lakes and wide fast running rivers vied with broad expanses of what could only be described as open tundra, rolling hills and spectacular numbers of birds and caribou. It was summer and to be expected in the region but wonderful nonetheless. In places there was still patches of snow/ice but the overwhelming image was one of green and blue. It was hard to imagine the whole area utterly buried in snow for the majority of each year. 

It took nearly five hours to drive the just over three hundred kilometers to Ivalo where Lars and Otti picked up some mail and ordered supplies before they drove the fifteen kilometers out of town on gravel road to the coven. 

The traditional style log structures were situated in a semicircle with the main coven building – much in the style of a Norse longhouse Willow remembered seeing in a history book somewhere. They were ushered inside, Matti, Lars and Xander carrying their most precious cargo with them.

General welcomes were made, followed by cups of much needed strong coffee, sweet home-baked fruit bread and cordial introductions to the various wiccans and families on site and finally a tour of the grounds near the coven. Willow and the Mistress Yollanda eventually peeled off from the main group to discuss what they knew of the task to come that evening with the senior leaders of the coven as ‘evening’ would be only a few hours long at best at this time of the year and then the sun only went truly down below the horizon for but an hour or so. Their timing would need to be precise and there was yet to be final contact with Illyria to confirm they were within the period she had predicted the solar storm was to hit.

A rather exhausted Matti and Xander carefully unpacked Spike’s wooden form, grateful that their meticulous padding of the carving had resulted in no injury, not even a scratch to the pale male sculpture. Xander oiled Spike’s form gently with oil he had brought mixed with a special potion provided by Willow on their reunion in Rovaniemi. 

They would still have to transport Spike to centre of the permanent, huge pentagram set up on a small rise some half kilometer from Ivalo coven central, the optimum place for any confluence of cosmic and earthly, magical and natural, energies and one that had been used by the coven since before recorded history. Xander kissed Spike’s noble forehead as the sculpture was settled onto an old mattress and he and Matti held on in the back of an ancient Volvo truck for the final move to the place of communion.

Around ten thirty at night they saw the lights of three other vehicles making the short journey from the coven up the hill. It seemed an appropriate signal that things were finally to come to a close after what seemed like an endless day in an endless week after an endless wait.

Spike was relieved to be out of the box and out of his bindings and now lay in his fixed position at the centre of the pentagram just able make out the movement around the circle and flurry of activity associated with bringing together members of covens – not just from Ivalo, but powerful wiccans from across the Russian border and Norway.

He could hear Willow tell Xander that she had indeed heard from Illyria and that tonight was ideal for any major spell. Apparently she had also guaranteed to ‘keep the interfering bastards of industry busy’ by launching a cyber attack via a botnet that would down most major servers (including Yahoo, Google and… Wolfram and Hart) for at least an hour. It would cover any conventional tracks and was to come from ‘sources unknown’ though if traced would only establish a point of origin somewhere in the former Soviet Union, or China.

Willow watched more and more concerned as an almost tearful Xander sat with the statue stroking the form as they all took position then waited for the very brief sunset and then some sort of signaling northern lights.

She finally broke from her place to touch him on the shoulder and whispered with affection and concern, “I’m not sure you should be in the circle sweetie.”

A pained chocolate eye rose to meet her emerald green gaze before he said, “I’d rather be here if that’s OK Wills.”

“Xan… we don’t know what is going to happen. Sweetie just come sit with me yeah? Spike has to be in the centre, but I’m pretty sure the energy/magic burst could kill you if you stay.”

Xander eventually gave in and moved to a spot beside Willow at one of the pentagram points. 

Someone called “Time! Begin the chant.”

A slow thump of traditional Lappi drums and low chant began as the sun dipped under the horizon and just as Xander was ready to decide it was all a ‘pipe dream’, the Arora Borealis, unusual for this time of year, signaled the arrival of a solar blast of a power. It came with a consistency that left even the most senior coven members aghast. 

Along with the blue and green curtains of light were a series of burgundy and orange that seemed too wide, more intense, than the normal set of rings at this time of year.

Xander paused for a moment and watched the colours play in a pale dance over Spike’s form then, for some unknown reason, moved on hands and knees to the form of his former friend and felt compelled to dive forward into the pentagram and reach to place a loving hand on Spike’s lower arm. The chanting came to a finish at that moment.

There was a sudden blast. All the lights in the vicinity, including those run by generators were snuffed out… and coming to in the blackness Xander felt… a burnt hand… and… nothing!! Nothing…

Seconds later all the coven and interlopers were on their backs with the blast, and a few paces away, just outside the pentagram, the dazed form of a beautiful male tried to make sense of what had just happened.

 

Part 20

Xander came to sprawled on his back halfway out of the pentagram his feet still touching the approximate area where Spike’s form had been. Ignoring the pain from his burnt hand and arm he sat up focused on the very obvious scorched ground and pile of dust at the centre and gave a heart wrenching “No!!!” Seconds later, the other wiccans who had only just begun to regain consciousness, woke to the sight of Xander kneeling, head on the ground, obviously sobbing and fisting the ash and soil.

It was beginning to become light again, though the flashes across the sky continued. Dazed and disorientated, all who had been part of the ceremony sat up gradually. A couple of the group immediately crawled a short distance away and rid themselves of their stomach contents. The drums that had accompanied the chanting were lying useless some ten or so meters away, their caribou skins now in tatters. Willow’s long white hair was singed and frizzy at the front, as though she had been standing too close to a log fire and Mistress Yollanda was looking decidedly pale. 

It was Willow who first spotted the additional person in their midst and forewent any attempt to help others in preference for helping the being.

Despite noting Xander in distress at the centre of the pentagram, she crawled over to the very nude, fetal position, shaking form on the northern most point. Despite the lack of peroxide, she immediately realized the blonde curls and near perfect male anatomy for who it was. “Spike? Um… William?”

The shape on its side uncurled a little, hands still close to a face that had obvious tears tracking down and over a perfectly formed nose. Azure blue eyes still brimming with tears of emotion blinked open and blearily found her green ones.

“I… I… Will..ow? Xan! What… where’s…? Ohh!!!” A huge sob or sigh of relief followed, she couldn’t be sure, then a cry of belated pain wracked Spike’s body… or was it William the human… for now he was here that was all that mattered.

Willow pulled off her oversized jacket and threw it over the newly restored… person. “You’re fine honey. Just stay there for a minute.” She then turned her attention to Xander who was still in a state of shocked grief at the centre of the pentagram.

Xander’s hand was badly burned but he seemed not to notice as he continued to paw the ground and sob. She knelt beside him, “Xan? Xan… look up for a minute… just…”

She gentled his face up. His tear streaked countenance was covered in the ash that had once been the wood of Spike’s making. He had obviously been rubbing it into his face in a desperate attempt to find what he believed was all that was left of Spike. “It worked Xan… Xan he’s over here… Please sweetie, just come with me.”

Xander took some moments to realize what was being said then finally, in an emotion choked voice said, “It worked? But…”

“Just… come on Xan just come with me… Look.” She didn’t quite get Xander to his feet because as he saw the figure on the ground he scrambled any way he could to the prone figure lying under Willow’s jacket. He hauled Spike into his lap and sought out the face he had seen for so many months in virtual form. Spike’s eyes were initially closed and he too was crying softly, but they opened as strong male arms surrounded him and first his forehead then cheek was kissed and he finally found himself in a bruising kiss that left him literally breathless. 

The other wiccans were all beginning to recover from what could best be described as a blast of lightening. Wiccans who had been wearing jewelry had burn marks where various pendants and bracelets had touched skin. Most were dazed but essentially unhurt yet all had an overwhelming sense of fatigue, regardless of age or experience at powerful conjuring. 

Eventually Spike and Xander were helped to their feet and eased into the old four wheel drive vehicle that had originally brought Spike to the location and were transported back to the coven headquarters. Neither Spike nor Xander had any clear recollection of the next three hours, other than being carried inside and laid out to rest on a large bed covered with soft duvet and Xander registering his hand and burnt forearm was carefully tended and dressed.

Some time around six that morning Spike rolled onto his side, pulled Xander close and fell asleep again. 

Willow, Mistress Yollanda and the other senior members of the covens present met to debrief the events of the evening while Spike and Xander slept. 

“There have been reports of electrical disturbances as far south as St Petersburg and Helsinki. It coincided with the cyber attack promised by Illyria. It is fairly safe to say the scale of our magicks were well masked from hostile interests.”

“And Illyria? What of Illyria’s essence?”

Mistress Yollanda answered, “Illyria’s presence came and went as Spike was restored. I believe we did as promised and gave her the push she needed for a transfer to another dimension. Certainly the energy was more and of a very different nature to any we have experienced before… Does anyone else…?” 

A painfully thin older woman from the Ivalo coven stepped forward and spoke through an interpreter, “I felt the shift of the one called Illyria. She/he is no longer of this dimension. There was relief as the change occurred. I believe we completed our task as far as that being is concerned. Of the one you call Spike I am not sure. I did not feel his shift before the final energy push.”

Willow frowned at this but was aware of the facts. Spike was corporeal. Xander was injured but safe and Illyria had moved on to another dimension. But something still niggled, and then she realized. By the time they were loading Spike into the four wheel drive, and certainly as they were lifting him into the coven… the sun had been up. Was it because it was the midsummer weak rays? Was it the fact that he had been newly restored? Had so many bodies around to assist his being carried to the car somehow shielded him from the rising orb’s energy? Or was it something else?

…………….

Spike woke slowly, dozing on and off with a sense of exhaustion that he had only felt a century and a half ago as a lad when recovering from a fever. Nearly twelve hours after the restoration spell, he woke fully. He had had odd dreams but really couldn’t remember if he and Xander were communing and something had gone awry, or whether he was simply out of the box and resting somewhere. And then...

Xander who had been similarly ‘knocked out’, rolled over, groaned once and snuggled down against him… and an amazed Spike shifted under the soft covers to hold the injured friend. *Really* hold him, with arms that worked and legs that could be gently entangled.

And that’s when he heard it. For the first time in a hundred and sixty plus years, he was warm and had… a pulse.

Initially he interpreted it as Xander’s, but then pushed a hand to his own neck… And it was true. It was his. Most definitely, slowly, a steady thump was coming from his carotid.

Xander was still asleep so he nuzzled the other man’s neck. His sense of smell was certainly a little less acute, and his hearing no longer as sharp, but when his fangs refused to drop and face did not change despite the proximity of Xander’s neck he really began to panic, then recalled Illyria’s last words before she departed the realm and the burning sensation began. “For myself I am moving on to a dimension few could comprehend, and I thank you. You have been a loyal servant, better than my most loyal Quoaa Hazhaad. For that I would intend and hope you are restored properly to this realm and wish you well.” 

Spike lay for a time cataloguing the new sensations, and ones he was more familiar with. He certainly recalled the onslaught of the burning and the words of Illyria, but the ensuing hours were rather more of a mystery. There had been warm hands, soft covers, strong male muscles and unfamiliar sounds, and black… lots of black.

Finally he blinked his eyes open. The room was darkened but he could tell from the blackout blinds that it must be day outside. He knew he was in the Ivalo coven that’s where he remembered they should be, and looked over to see an exhausted Matti sleeping in an extremely uncomfortable position on a rather too small old couch by the wall. The gauze clad arm and hand of his maker and rescuer was resting on his nude stomach and Xander was showing signs of waking up, if the snuffles and groans were any measure of the same. Spike lay still trying to take it all in.

He was no longer a carving, he somehow knew he had retained his soul… and he was… human. With all his various incarnations since 1880, all the pain, all the… He was human again. 

He did something he had not done since a young boy. He slid out of bed onto his knees and began to pray. “Loving Ghod, goddess, Powers, Gaia, Jesu, Allah… ah bugger… whoever! Thank you… and… Give me the strength to accept the things I cannot change. Courage to change the things I can… And bless those who made the difference.” It might have been a take on an old prayer, but it felt enough for the moment.

Matti stirred, so did Xander, and within minutes Spike was being lifted back onto the bed by kind hands of wiccans he could not identify and examined gently, caringly and thoroughly, offered water and asked all manner of questions. It was still confusing, but at around eleven in the morning by the clock, he and Xander were tucked up in bed sipping a potent dandelion/cinnamon tea and attempted to answer all manner of questions in a variety of languages.

Xander’s arm and hand were again being tended by Ivalo wiccans as Mistress Willow held Spike’s hand, leveled her stunningly green eyes at his blue and told him what he already knew. “It… You are human again Spike… I’m sorry… But we really didn’t…”

“’s OK Luv Second time around… or third or fourth… Jus… Is the boy OK?”

Willow looked across to Xander who now had a drip in his arm and was being examined by one of the Russian wiccans who happened to have conventional medical training with a specialty in burns trauma. “I think he’ll be fine. Though it will scar… and… um… they’re not quite sure if he… There may have to be surgery on his hand. Three fingers are burnt beyond… We will operate this afternoon.”

Spike gave a pained look toward the pale figure of Xander, “Can I…? You know… lad saved and… would my blood…?”

Willow patted his shoulder, “Spike? Spike… It’s OK Spike… Master Olaf is trained. You… just heal… relax and just heal… Xander will need you…”

Willow was pressing practiced hands across his brow and massaging his neck and then a needle pricked somewhere around his inner elbow and… black.

 

Part 21

A day later Spike had had his first human meal and waited (almost) patiently to hear of Xander’s status. 

The ex-Scoobie had been driven to the small hospital in Ivalo with Master Olaf. The operation was classed as an emergency so had priority and was attended by one of Olaf’s personal friends and fellow surgeons from Russia who specialized in trauma. The most worrying part of the injury was the damage done to the whole arm’s nervous system.

In the end Olaf and team had been forced to remove the pinky, ring, middle finger, and some of the attached palm, but managed to save the thumb and pointer, though the arm itself would be weakened as the electrical blast and consequent burn had destroyed a number of neural pathways at a local level.

Spike was sitting at his bedside as soon as an unconscious Xander was returned to the coven, and refused to move even to eat.

Xander woke on and off during the first day and still too drugged to really make sense of the world, though he knew there was a warm hand stroking his brow and holding his left hand.

Finally two days after his surgery, Xander woke properly to an aching limb, warm kiss on the forehead and baritone voice.

“There you are… Sweetheart… Just rest…”

Strains of Khachaturian’s Spartacus was playing somewhere in the coven and seemed somehow appropriate. The journey they had travelled and the one they were about to embark on was indeed an epic one.

Xander lifted his injured limb with some effort. Spike caught his arm and supported it as the man tried to comprehend what had happened, what he had gained… and what he had lost.

His hand was bound with layers of bandage but even so he could see that there were only two digits left. He groaned and tried to sit up but found the act virtually impossible.

Willow was there in an instant, as was the Mistress Yollanda and Matti. All looked tired and somewhat pained. But all Xander saw was the visage of a rather pale blonde male dressed in an old oversized shirt and sweat pants.

He ground out in the rasping voice of those who had so recently been ill, “Hey you…”

Spike and Willow answered in unison, “Hey yourself…”

Spike stroked Xander’s face as Willow began to explain what had transpired.

“Xan… I’m sorry but… They managed to save your thumb and pointer finger… but… Xan they had to take the others… There really was no choice given how badly burned they were.”

“Ahh well there goes my virtuoso piano career.” Xander tried to smile but found his stomach lurching. Spike saw the signs and grabbed a bedpan in time for Xander to lean over the side of the bed and part cough, part gag then throw up a minute amount of water and bile. Still sweating and visibly shaking, he fell back onto the pillow and closed his eyes for a time. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Willow waited for a moment until Xander opened his good eye, “Xander honey... Mistress Yollanda has managed to get us all flights back to the UK for Tuesday this coming week. We’re arranging a passport for Spike through some very unofficial channels… but it still takes a bit of time and Master Olaf thinks you will be OK to travel by then.”

Xander closed his good eye for a moment then answered, “OK… Is Spike??”

“Right here Luv… in the flesh and still tryin to work out what that’s all about… All thanks to you.” Spike leant forward and kissed Xander on the forehead.

“Hmmm… all of the good then.”

Willow patted his arm and repeated, “All of the good…” as Xander slipped into medicated unconsciousness once more.

Spike relinquished his spot beside Xander’s bed, stretched and finally took himself outside for a sit in the sun. Matti followed him, rolled a cigarette and handed it to the newly formed human.

“Taa mate… Prob’ly have to give ‘em up now I’ve got a real set of lungs… still…”

Matti lit his own then handed Spike the lighter. Something about the man had Matti more than a little curious. There was a sadness and a stillness that spelt age and someone who had been ‘through the mill’ more times than once.

“You OK Spike?”

Spike looked up, smiled wanly and took a long drag on his cigarette before answering, “Just gettin’ used to everythin’ I guess. Strange hearin’ me own heartbeat after all these years. ‘N bodily functions are all a bit out of wack but essentially ‘m fine. Unlike the boy in there. Right white hat is he… second time he’s lost bits of ‘is anatomy in the good fight. Can’t say as I could’ve done anythin’ for ‘im this time around though. Just hope he don’t hate me for it in the mornin’.”

“I’ve got to admit I really had my doubts about… well you know… everything. You were really a vampire, you know… blood and everything?”

“Strange as it might seem but yeah… Bloody good one too ‘til a few bits ‘n pieces happened.”

“So you’re like… hundreds of years old?”

“Born March 14th eighteen fifty six, turned eighteen eighty, so yeah, by my reckoning, that makes me a hundred ‘n fifty five plus a bit o’ change.”

“But that’s… amazing.” Matti stared at the very attractive, slight man dressed in an oversized borrowed t-shirt and sweat pants, now sitting with a burning cigarette in hand and had his eyes closed, face pointed toward the sun. He was about to ask another question when a rather exhausted Willow joined them on the landing. 

Spike butted out the remains of his cigarette and smiled at the witch.

“Hey guys… new bookings are done. We leave tomorrow. We’ve sorted a passport for you Spike. William B. Aurelius, aged twenty nine. Born in Surrey, returning to the UK after some time away, permanent residence to be the coven etc etc.” 

“Taa pet. Boy good to travel?”

“Master Olaf seems to think so but we’ve arranged for a wheel chair in Helsinki and back at Heathrow just in case.”

“You comin’ with?”

“I really have to get back to Brazil, but the inter-coven meeting is still on for the Solstice so I’ll be back here again late June and have agreed to be back in the UK for Xander’s big opening just after.”

“Hope you booked business class for the return… Happy to foot the bill.”

Willow smiled, “All the way from Moscow… Looking forward to lying out flat for the journey. The Mistress said you want to head to Geneva soon after you get back?”

“Need to tidy up some loose ends, investments, that sort of thing. Long as the boy’s on the mend I figure I should make some ‘withdrawals’ on the old dosh… and new. Got a life ta build an hopin’ Xan wants a part of it… Keep ‘im in the way he’d rather become accustomed, that sort of thing.”

Willow recognized the caring Spike of old. She leaned forward to kiss the newly made human on the temple and was caught by a near desperate hugging arm and whispered, “Thankin’ you yeah? But gotta ask… It’s all gonna be OK with the boy…yeah?”

Willow was careful with her answer, “You *and* he will be fine… Maybe not right now but… it’ll be fine.”

……………

Three days later saw Xander sitting up and eating a little, though still taking some fairly heavy duty painkillers, necessary particularly when the dressings on his burnt arm and hand had to be replaced. Happily Master Olaf had been able to graft skin from Xander’s own thigh to cover the worst of the burn to his arm but there was still much healing to be done. Xander knew that Spike had been there for him virtually all the time, but they really hadn’t talked much, and certainly Spike seemed reluctant to discuss his new human status beyond the fact that he now had a heartbeat and had to “… Go to the bloody loo *again*.” 

The trip back to Rovaniemi airport gave Willow an opportunity to talk quietly to Spike regards ‘what next’. It really was the first time since they had met in Sunnydale that Willow was able to fully appreciate the sensitive, quietly spoken, deep thinker that was the former vampire.

“Got a lot to be grateful for Pet. Not many around who c’n say they’ve had a what… fourth or fifth chance at life. Had I not been turned would’ve been pushin’ up daisies somewhere round the turn of last century… ‘n if ‘Gelus hadn’t taken me on would’ve been dust a few years after that… then got me the chip that should’ve done me in, then the soul… then the showdown ‘t Sunnydale then bloody well a ghostie then real then sommit else courtesy of the Black Thorn takedown ‘n now this… back to square one as it were… Funny ol’ world innit. Prob’ly should’ve been a cat all the lives I ticked off.”

“Did you ever think that maybe there’s some purpose in you being here?… You know ‘cause Angel…”

“Ol man was all about broodin’ ‘n moonin’ over what coulda been. Then again he was a mite older’n me… Honestly never really gave a piss about atonement like he did, and never really put much thought into the ‘I’m a hero’ thing he always seemed on about…”

“That’s not true though, is it. You always protected those you loved… I mean even Buffy! Spike you went and got your soul back because of her.”

“N a fat lot of good that did me…”

“Spike think through this a bit though. You protected Drusilla all those years. When Glory was doing her worst you protected Dawnie and us… After Buffy died the same… and again after that… You’ve rolled with the punches and always done the right thing according to circumstance… Maybe this is your reward… Maybe you get to… I don’t know…”

“Grow old ‘n die like the next bloke? Pffft well that’ll be a lark.”

“No I just meant… Well maybe you will be able to *live* You know really, in the world, as a person… And I’m pretty sure Xan ‘n you… Although I might be presuming but it seems pretty obvious… He really loves you I think…”

Spike blushed a little at that, the odd hot flushing sensation hitting his face and his groin at about the same time. “Boy’s a treasure… Saved my bacon ‘n all… Got a lot to live up to there…Gonna treat him right though – don’t you worry ‘bout that. Can’t guarantee I’ll be much good in that workshop ‘o his… but gonna keep ‘im safe ‘n well looked after.”

“What will you do Spike… You know when you get back to England?” 

“Dunno… Play ladies for a while I suppose. Boy back there has the say… Jus’ hopin’ he don’t hate me in the mornin’.”

“Xander could never hate you Spike. He loves you… I mean really loves you…” Willow saw the shadow of doubt cross Spike’s features and heard the mumbled, “Yeah well they all say that ‘til I bollocks it up somehow… ‘n reckon three fingers are a pretty big bollocksin’.”

Willow grabbed his hand at that and held on, pulling him in to kiss a very worried brow, “You didn’t do anything Spike! Xander *wanted* to help you… You must know he threw himself…”

Now there was a tear tracking down the right side of Spike’s face and a barely controlled hiccup, “Weren’t in ‘is right mind though was he?!”

“But he *was* Spike! He… He… He was desperate to keep you on this plane. I saw it, we all did… and he was willing to give *everything* for you… Oh Spike… Just love him back now, OK? You both deserve that at least and you do have it… there for the taking… And the Mistress and I will try our hardest to make things easy for you any way we can…”

Spike sniffed audibly, lifted Willow’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently, “’Spose I c’n always teach the King’s English if they still do that sort of rot at that community college the boy works at. Heard the university of the third age is all the go for us old types anyways. Always fancied meself as a fan of the Bard.”

Willow smiled and patted the hand holding hers, “There you go. And Xan’s going to need some rehab too. You up for that.”

“Reckon I can assist with wieldin’ me a hammer ‘til the boy’s all mended, but yeah… I guess we’ll be fine.”

They took their leave at the airport, Matti, the Mistress and Spike pushing a still quite drugged Xander through the domestic ‘invalid entry’ while Willow headed for international and her flight to Moscow and beyond.

Their arrival in Heathrow was eased by the medical documents travelling with Xander and a number of ‘phone ahead’s on the part of the airline. 

The wiccans Gemyma and Crissy were waiting at the arrivals, the old VW combie from the coven parked in the ‘special allowance’ bay ready for Xander’s transfer.

Finally eased into his own bed, Xander accepted the medications proffered by wiccan (and registered trauma nurse) Crissy, but held off swallowing them until he and Spike were alone. His arm and hand hurt terribly but he just needed to talk for a moment before blessed black.

“Thanks… You know… for being here with me… I thought you might…”

“What? Dump the person I’ve just found… Spike… I…”

“It’s OK pet… you don’t need to say what you don’t mean…”

“But I *do*… I… And if you ditch me now… I guess it’s OK… but… I love *you*… the whole too much history and the hero and the… But can you… I’m glad you’re back… and I don’t care the cost…” As if to illustrate the point Xander held up his still too injured hand and brought finger to thumb, “See? Still have the pirate thing happening, Hook 101.” He tried to laugh but ended up coughing a little then shedding more than a few tears. “Sorry… Meds… and…”

“Aught to be sorry about pet, you’re home now… let’s just gentle you ta sleep. Reckon I can rustle up some old bedtime tunes… hardcore metal not included.”

Spike kissed the man shortly after he took the prescribed painkillers and shortly after fell into a deep sleep.

 

Part 22 

A week after their return to the coven Xander was again being seen to by a local plastic surgeon who maintained that his fast recovery could be put down to good health and fitness, and fine attention from several wiccans who continued to dress and monitor his wounds… and Spike… or rather ‘William, Xander’s ‘significant other’.

Initially a few of the younger girls had flirted with the pretty male who made himself known as the newcomer picked up some prepared food for he and Xander from the main coven kitchen, and Spike was charming as ever. But eventually the two were quietly told that it was probably unwanted attention by an ever vigilant Mistress Yollanda, who tolerated inter-wiccan relations at the coven, but also knew that Spike was a one person… person.

And so Xander had improved.

It was again the Mistress who found a wistful Spike sitting out in the sunshine on the small landing of the workshop. He and Matti had spent the day packing and loading all items for the big show in less than a week. 

“You OK Dear?”

Spike snorted a little at the endearment then started up at the middle aged wiccan with sad blue eyes, “’Dear’, somethin’ only me ol’ mum used to say. God rest her…”

The Mistress patted him on the shoulder and sat down on the step beside him. “I’m worried about you William. The transition… was something I’ve never dealt with before… and certainly the nature of the reversion to human must be unique…”

“Special am I? Well… what c’n I say love… Not s’ bad yourself.” Spike tried for a half hearted grin and nudged the Mistress on the arm in a friendly gesture of resignation.

She slapped him lightly and tut tutted without serious intent, “You know what I mean William… You are trying so hard for dear Xander in there, and yet are struggling yourself.”

“Thought I weren’t bein’ so bloody obvious. What gave it away? Me not exactly moonin’ around the place… thought I was bein’… useful… least as much as possible.”

“William… You’re doing wonderfully dear… But you need to give yourself time to adjust fully. Humanity is…”

“Yeah I know, overrated and underpaid. But it’s me now innit?”

“It is indeed. Now Xander is due in London for the opening of the new gallery and his collection at the end of the week. I think it is wise if only myself and Matti accompany him. He has already expressed his concern for you in the presence of anyone who might… *know* you by sight, i.e. Wolfram and Hart. And I think it would be good if I can get a feel, literally, for anything they have done or not to the twin sculpture, don’t you?”

“Appreciated luv. Might use the time to get meself across the drink ‘n check on some Swiss interests o’ mine. All this nurse-maidin’ is sure to have let a few things slide investment wise. ‘N gettin’ me hands on a little cash will certainly see your coffers on the improve, I don’t mind sayin’.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Know that luv… I *want* to. Let me do that at least. Promise it won’t be oil baron stuff, but should help things along a bit.” Spike looked at his hands again and added, “One thing as has me puzzled though… What happened to me demon… Don’t feel like the William of old, truth be told… then again probably forgot what that is after all this time…”

“Didn’t Willow tell you?”

Spike looked up with surprise at that, “Tell me what exactly?”

“You’re demon has integrated with you William… Spike… you… he… are all one, you have been since you regained your soul. You may not have the vampire urges but then you had come to control and work with that a very long time ago.”

“So what? I’m just a homicidal human now??”

The Mistress smiled knowingly, “No Spike, you’re you. We read your aura when you were under the weather at Ivalo, everyone saw it. A perfect match of dark and light.”

“Shades of grey then. Still should be me there in that room… sufferin’. Not me out here enjoyin’ the bloody sunshine…Can’t do naught but sit ‘n make idle chat… Fat lotta good that is.”

“Would you rather it be you Spike… William…? What good would that be?”

Spike put his head in his hands, and allowed a tear to drop, “Don’t know Luv… Just know that I wish it were me hurtin’. Deserve the hurt you know… Can’t say sorry to the boy, not in a way that makes any sense… not to me not to him… Just… Never meant…” 

“Of course you didn’t. We are informed by our past. It doesn’t define the present or the future. Use your hard earned knowledge, your history and your intellect… Make of it what you will… But for now tend Xander. Care for him and make his sacrifice, which was made willingly, worth it. 

“I’ll arrange a flight for you to Geneva for late tomorrow morning. We can drop you off at Heathrow on the way through to the gallery.” The Mistress patted Spike on the hand and stood to leave. She barely heard the mumbled “Thanks” before wandering back to the big house, leaving Spike to contemplate the enormity of what had been revealed. It made any maneuvering by Wolfram and Hart ‘interesting’ that was for sure. 

Spike spent some minutes trying to come to terms with the apparent fact that his demon was integrated, part of the picture now, without the fangs, and super speed, and allergy to the sun etc etc… but somehow all there. And he had a friend who needed and deserved better of him, the whole him… now. He allowed a couple more tears to fall before he stood. He sniffed hard and hoped Xander would forgive any puffiness of eyes… just a little… Perhaps he could get away with an ‘allergy’ of the summertime pollen, human sort of excuse.

…………………………..

Xander woke to Spike’s careful attention and a kiss to the forehead. There was nothing sexual in the gesture, but a simple “Hey Pet. There you are.”

“Hey yourself. Did I sleep long?”

“Beauty sleep only Luv. Just wandered out for a few minutes in the sun… hope you don’t mind.”

“You? Ghod… I feel like I’m Mr Useless to you now… I mean…”

“Here for you and because of you. You know that.” Spike kissed the man on the forehead affectionately. “Gotta run an idea by you… You’re goin’ to London on the morrow for that opening and whatnot. The Mistress ‘n I have been havin’ a bit of a conflab and it seems best if I head over the drink to do some quiet banking transactions… withdrawals checkups that sort of thing.”

Xander frowned then started to look particularly distressed, finally in a near whisper grinding out, “For how long? I mean are you coming back? I thought you’d… I don’t know.”

“Now before you get your knickers in a twist, it’s just while you’re in London and not least of which is to keep you safe. Wolfram an’ bloody Hart are sniffin’ around. That Lilah bird *knows* me by sight, so does Giles, and I’ll wager that Sarah bird, and they’ll all be there at your opening shindig. Hardly do for me to turn up in the flesh with your pretty rendition of me in wood sittin’ on the pedestal now would it, Hmmm?? Give the whole game away if’n they knew you were carvin’ some dashingly handsome *real* lover now would it?” As if to emphasize the point Spike kissed him hard then pressed on Xander’s crotch area feeling a desperate (though still somewhat drug effected) twitch of interest. “Promise to ravish you within an inch of me apparently present life when I get back Luv… Now there’s a promise worth waiting for don’t you think.” 

“Ghod Spike… You have no idea.”

Spike grinned, pecked Xander on the nose, and lifted onto the bed to straddle him and rub their semi-hard, fully-clad erections together then leaned down, licked the brunette’s ear and whispered seductively, “Oh Pet… But I think I do!”

Xander closed his eyes and enjoyed the anticipation then was blessed with a warm tight hug and Spike’s quiet words, “You saved me Luv… Fully intend to pay me dues… But for now… If it’s not too much trouble, just like to lie here in your arms (OK on top of you) and enjoy.”

Xander mumbled, “Enjoy away” and rejoiced at the feeling of the strong male form sliding to his left, non-injured side, stretching out beside him and nuzzling into his neck before he sighed and gave in to contented sleep once more.

……………..

The following day could not have been more different. Bags were packed, tickets, passports etc checked, last minute art pieces packed into the Gallery paid for taxi. Preliminary sketches and photos of works in progress, extra information leaflets on the coven and the community college Xander worked at, and pictures of previously sold pieces were included in the suitcase of ‘Extras’ bound for London.

Spike collected all he needed, put on his only vaguely passable for business button down black shirt and black jeans. Airport security might look at him twice, but there was a bank balance (and access to boutiques of all descriptions) that would allow more casual chic attire once he was in Switzerland. 

There was no time for real goodbyes at the airport (Spike insisting that the parking officers were reincarnated highway robbers and refusing the offer to see him off) but Spike did manage a rather public ‘snog’ with Xander as he was dropped at the departure gates. He made his way unimpeded through customs and had but an hour wait for his plane. The jet was in the air even before the Mistress, Matti and Xander had wound their way back into central London.

………………………….

Lilah was livid. It was only a month and a half after their whole system had been crashed by a cyber attack of massive proportions and she still had no word from her research department. They had been examining the statue of the vampire Spike (despite the name ‘Adonis’ it was obvious who it was), they had been unable to establish anything untoward about the wooden figure. The conclusion from all her sources was that it was indeed simply a tribute to a lost comrade by a sculptor with a ‘man fetish’.

 

As for the cyber attack, it had been concluded that it was simply unfortunate and for a company that prided itself on knowing all groups that operated with more intel on groups with malicious intent, it seemed ridiculous not to be able to pinpoint the source of the attacks. All that could be determined by their crack technical team was the same as anyone else knew. It was a massive ‘botnet’ with an unknown sleeper ‘worm’ that might have been planted months or years ago and triggered by the sun spot. The best the Wolfram and Hart team could gather was that it was an incredibly simple algorithm carried by a virus written specifically to ‘take out’ major companies for a time. According to their hired hackers it was simple enough for anyone with the technology to do. The worry was that it was virtually undetectable and once activated, unstoppable as the computers which participated in the ‘denial of service’ were numbered over a million machines from across the globe.

There had been some discussion at the time that the shut downs were due to the large energy surge due to the sunspot activity coinciding with the problems but the scientific data could not verify or deny the theory, and likewise Wolfram and Hart’s own psychics were struggling as the blast of electromagnetic energy and related alteration of the earth’s energy states generally compromised even the best of their staff.

What was certain was that any attempt to ‘call’ the vampire William the Bloody’s demon had been utterly without success and Lilah was not only at a loss but also looking to explain her rather high expenditure on the venture that included par funding the New Watchers’ Council. Now she was faced with a ‘cutting losses and strategic advantage’ report rather than positive evidence that they once more had a key figure in the vampire world. Still at least there was the ex-Sunnydale now sculptor Alexander Harris. At least he was still around, though she had heard via her art contacts, had been badly injured in a recent accident, so may still be doubtful. She resolved to leave him on the ‘pending’ file.

…………..

The opening of the gallery was a triumph as far as Brigette, Adrianna, and Wolfram and Hart were concerned. All the who’s who of fashion, the arts, politics, industry and the media were there. Many were in ‘Wolfram and Hart’s pocket’ but all were willing to drink the free champagne and toast the newest ‘go to’ art gallery in London.

The Adonis carving was front and centre, and drew a significant crowd as a rather emotional (and extremely nervous) Alexander Harris, artist, spoke of the inspiration for the piece as in keeping with his mythological theme and the facial features a tribute to a fallen friend. 

Lilah had her psychics scanning for deceit as Xander spoke but all reports were negative. The man was obviously just besotted with the now dusted vampire. Why they couldn’t resurrect him with the standard use of an effigy was also worrying – but then souls had a nasty way of *always* complicating things. After all she had been forced to give up on Angelus after only two months following the Black Thorn incident, why should she be surprised that William the Bloody (the most ensouled of that bloody ridiculously unconventional Aurelian line) would be any different?

Xander tired quickly with the opening and departed well before the rest of the guests, Matti staying to promote his own works but the Mistress realizing the distress and helping Xander into the waiting car and easing him into bed in his rooms at the Savoy (hotel of choice paid for by Wolfram and Hart), before retiring to her own quarters.

……………………………..

 

Part 23

Spike’s visit to his bankers in Switzerland was interesting to say the least. He had spent the morning of arrival at a hairdressers having his rather long mop of dark blonde hair stylishly cut then coloured with white blonde highlights, then visited a couple of stores to find appropriate attire for one of the jetset elite. The standard black leather jacket was a given but now partnered with designer dark jeans and a dark burgundy silk shirt. Even Spike was happy with the effect and felt much more like the Spike of old. Knowing his demon was part of him now was also somewhat comforting.

His memory of the German language certainly served him well, though his personal banker seemed just as comfortable with English as a start. When he switched easily the young man smiled broadly and continued in rapid Deutch.

“Danke für Ihre Unterstützung, Herr Klemants.” (Thank you for your understanding Mr Klemants)

“Keine Ursache. Nicht der Rede wert.” (and you are most welcome Mr Aurelius)

 

“Ich würde gerne den Safe (Schließfach) meiner Familie sehen.” (I would like to see our family safe)

"Und ich möchte gerne etwas Geld überweisen. Meine Geheimzahl ist fünf, fünf, sieben, null, neun, drei, drei sieben, null. Und .. Herr Klemants? ... Danke “( And I would like to withdraw money. My number is five five seven zero nine three three seven zero. And… Mr. Klemants? … Thanks.)

The young man nodded, quickly checked the number and passport. Signatures satisfied and memorized twelve-digit pass provided, he was welcomed by his personal discrete banker, Stefan, almost as a long lost relative. He was in his element, commenting on the burgeoning funds in an off handed way, he accepted the key to the strong box, keen to see what else Angelus had stashed in days past. Stefan stood smiled again and indicated the large door leading to a hallway and through to the vaults.

Ich freue mich, Ihnen helfen zu können. Bitte hier entlang. (I am happy to oblige. This way…) 

He was led down a series of corridors, security codes typed in by his banker before a single massive vault door was opened and he was led to a significantly sized safe door at the end of the room. He was left to examine the contents with assurances that the bank attendant would be ‘right outside’ put the key in, typed in the code and turned the handle. It opened with a swish of stale air, suspecting that Angelus had probably cleaned it out years before, but was very mistaken.

“Bitte. Ich lasse Sie nun allein. Ich werde direkt draußen warten.” (Of course I leave you to view. I am right outside.)

The contents included long lost sketches by Renoir, several hand written original scores by Vivaldi (typical bloody Angelus), diamond tiaras, a handful of exquisitely cut precious gems of unknown origin, earrings by the dozen, a number of strings of pearls, three gold men’s fob watches, plus various other pieces of jewelry. But what took Spike’s breath away were the sketches of himself done in Angelus’ own hand… sketches that dated from when they were running in Russia together solo, without the girls. It was the hand of a lover and a Sire. The pictures of a debauched, satisfied, nude, young William the Bloody, looking at his Sire with both desire and adoration.

It unnerved him for a moment and he let a tear fall for the now dusted Grandsire of the line, but he eventually pulled himself together, tucked the sketches away with the other treasures and pushed the vault back into place. It was millions of dollars worth, he knew that, but it was best left for another time. For now, the funds he had access to were more than ample.

He transferred six amounts of twenty thousand Euro to the various covens who had assisted he and Xander, and an additional two hundred thousand to the coven in England, and the same to Xander’s direct account, though made sure the source was ‘masked’. The transaction would be logged, but was security noted as the initiator being “Benefactor X from Reisenbank, Switzerland, Anonymous.” 

The transactions made barely a dint in his funds which, his banker was keen to acknowledge, had been growing significantly since ‘his grandfather Angelus Aurelius’’ the initial investment and the rate had accelerated over the past two years. Spike smiled stated that he had only taken over control since his ‘grandfather’s demise’ and was complimented on his obvious talent for investment. 

Satisfied that he had done and seen all he needed to, Spike returned to his hotel and changed for dinner, and how odd was that, an old human habit his mother would have been pleased he had resurrected. He’d been reminded of his human status several times during the past three days but the pleasure of ordering and consuming a meal of trout, salad and berry dessert in a setting he had only been to as a vampire before brought it all into sharp relief.

The next day would see him do some shopping, something for Xander, then catch a late flight back to London. There was no real rush, but travelling solo now that his business ventures had been dealt with held little appeal. He needed to get back to his boy.

……………….

Xander had slept badly. His Spike shaped friend was absent and he was in a strange bed. It didn’t matter that he had disappointed Adrianna by not staying for cocktails, there were other things to worry about. 

Lilah had cornered him on the day after the opening, she and two women who gave him the creeps. She had asked him all sorts of apparently innocent questions about his sculpture, but there was obviously more to it. He had seen the odd marks on Spike’s twin. Barely discernable marks on the ankle, near the hairline, and one on the wrist. Noone else would have seen but there was nothing innocent about the small circular marks on the wood. They had been doing tests and it was as Spike had suspected. He had hoped there was nothing to Spike’s suspicions but knew better than to trust Wolfram and Hart.

On the second day Xander had confided his worries to Mistress Yollanda who agreed they all had to be careful, but was adamant that the changed Spike had both demon essence and human soul entwined for all time… and that he was devoted to Xander.

It was the last statement that gave him some hope… devoted… that was the Spike he knew, the one that lived and died, dusted, for his friends. The Spike that loved without reservation. The Spike that had nursed and apologized to him on a daily basis since they had successfully made the change in Ivalo. The Spike who… and it didn’t matter that it was only four days… he needed to see Spike, in the flesh. He took his meds, lay back on the bed, his good arm over his eyes and despite the early hour, slept.

…………………………..

Lilah was on the back foot, in more ways than one. The opening of the art gallery had been a triumph, Wolfram and Hart had ample coverage to satisfy the finance department, but she was still no closer to resurrecting the vampire William the Bloody. In the end it had been a side comment by a minion that had her thinking. If both Angel and Spike were ensouled and had been dusted then perhaps it was time to ‘envampire’ a statue with one of the other Aurelians. Darla was no good, silly bitch dusting herself over a child, but Drusilla had found her end far more conventionally. She had been dusted less than a year ago by a new slayer in Miami Florida. It seemed the perfect solution.

Have the unsuspecting Harris carve an effigy of the departed Drusilla and purchase it outright. It might take a few months but Lilah was happy with the schedule. She cornered the artist shortly after he arrived for the final day of opening celebrations.

“My people at Wolfram and Hart are very interested in your work Mr Harris, particularly as it seems to have attracted rave reviews.” She smiled sweetly and took his uninjured arm. “This is Mr Edwin Cole the head of our London branch. He has been dying to meet you.” A rather plump, mousy haired man nodded enthusiastically and extended his left hand for a somewhat limp handshake before starting to speak at pace.

“Indeed, indeed. I am most impressed. Lilah here tells me you do work on commissioned pieces.”

“Well yes… but at the moment I’ve had to… you know put a few things on the back burner.” Xander held up his still bandaged right arm and hand.

“Yes, yes of course. But were we to engage your services for a piece you would consider it? The time line is flexible.” Mr Cole shot a quick look to Lilah who gave an encouraging nod.

“I guess…” Xander wondered where this was going.

“Well it seems you have a talent for sculpture and we would like to celebrate some of our best clients of the past and ahhh… present of course. We are prepared to remunerate you well for your efforts… say ten thousand euro to start and ten more when the figure is complete.”

Xander was a little shocked by the offer, so took some time to reply, finally smiling, “Sure that sounds about right. But I guess I’ll need some images and that sort of thing to make a real go of it. Adonis was modeled on a real person, from photos etc. If you have those it should be doable.”

“*Wonderful*. I will send the contract to you and we can iron out other details further down the track. No doubt Lilah, you will want to be involved?”

“Of course, happy to play liaison.”

“Splendid. Now you said drinks and nibbles?”

“This way.” With that Lilah led off with Mr Cole on her heels and Xander was left to ponder what he had just agreed to. 

 

Part 24

Xander was bundled into the Wolfram and Hart sponsored limousine along with Matti and The Mistress Yollanda.

The hastily composed contract was on his knees, but Xander was in no fit state to interpret the legalese, nor in any mindset to sign anything, so had ‘fobbed off’ Lilah at the last hour, claiming he needed to consider his options, given his obvious impediment.

Lilah was left dissatisfied but reassured that it was probably only a result of the man’s recent accident, and confident that their generous offer would be accepted.

The opening had been a triumph for gallery owner Brigette, and had promised favorable off spins for Adrianna’s regional gallery. Several of Xander’s more important pieces had been sold and two of Matti’s. All in all the coven was on the map as *the place* producing up and coming sculptors in the south of England.

Minutes after arriving home Xander’s residual fatigue got the better of him and he excused himself to return to his private abode.

He slept until dark and only vaguely heard the crunch of tires on the coven driveway. He heard his front door click and moments later his bedroom door slammed open. 

A silhouetted male figure in a long coat stood with the light from the lounge behind him. Xander thought he was dreaming, he could swear it was Spike the vampire of the Sunnydale variety. He decided to ask, and said in quiet voice still thick and croaky with sleep. ”Spike? Tell me you didn’t get vamped again…”

Spike moved over to the bed, leaned down and gave him a kiss on the forehead and his injured arm then dove for his lips to give a ‘proper snogging’ that had Xander gasping for breath and composure, before replying, “Nahh, just improved the image Pet… nothin’ like feelin’ the part.”

Xander leaned over and flicked on the bedside lamp as Spike sat on the bed and smiled.

Clearing his throat and pushing up on the mountain of pillows that seemed to have migrated to his side of their king sized bed, Xander stared in wonder at the man he had come to cherish. “Well… you look amazing… Did everything go OK?”

“Better than Pet… But figure you’re gettin’ some beauty sleep so…”

“I’m fine… better than now that you’re home.”

“Feelin’ ‘s mutual.” Spike leaned forward and kissed him soundly before adding, “Got you a pressie.” 

Spike pulled out two small packages, both elegantly wrapped by the respective shops, and placed them on the reclining man’s lap. Xander struggled a little with the wrappings of the first, his still wrapped injured hand causing problems.

It was obviously a tiny box from master jewelers Adler® with the characteristic thick shiny white paper and gold ribbon with a sticker “Mémoire du monde” fixing the parcel together. Inside was a glorious diamond and natural ruby encrusted ‘Infinity swirl’ pendant on a thick white gold chain and matching tiny ruby centered, diamond surround pair of earrings. Both sparkled brightly even in the poor light. “Goddess Spike these must have cost a fortune!”

“Nothin’ you don’t deserve Pet. Here I’ll put them on you.” Spike undid the clasp and put the piece around Xander’s neck then undid Xander’s old sleeper from his pierced right ear, slipped the back off one earring and slid the piece home, fixing it gently. “You look a treat Luv.” He placed a chaste kiss on Xander’s forehead before turning a little and revealing he had had his ear pierced while away. “T’other one’s for me after the hole heals in a week or three… we’ll match. Soppy I know but… hope you don’t mind.” 

Xander stared in wonder at the tiny crystal on a surgical stud in Spike’s ear then whispered, “Ghod Spike, it looks… just right.”

Spike grinned knowingly. He was still getting used to being able to see his own reflection but had been pleased with the result at the time. Xander’s approval was just a little affirmation that his judgment of appearances was still in tact.

“Well now… this one is none too exciting, call it functional. Just hope it all fits.”

The second package was a larger, less elaborately wrapped box from Caran d'Ache®. Xander lifted the lid and inside was a black leather eye patch and a pair of men’s leather gloves. It wasn’t until Xander picked up the second that he realized the black kid leather had been modified. The right hand glove had been neatly adjusted to fit his two fingered hand. “Wow?! But this is…” He smiled up at Spike in wonder.

“All part of the service Pet. Now I know you can’t put it on just yet, but I figured once all the bandages are off you might need some dress gloves, you know, keep the digits warm, the scars comfy, an’ pryin’ eyes from the scars, yeah?”

“Oh…” Xander stared down at the gloves and at his bound injured hand. “They’re gorgeous Spike, but how…?”

Spike looked a little worried, afraid he had inadvertently offended his friend, “Hope you don’t mind Pet, just thought… Had a nice fellow at d’Ache adjust ‘em for you. Amazing what you can do if there’s money on the table. Don’t have to wear them if’n you don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to! Just… This is too much!”

“Never too much for the reigning hero of the day. And hopefully still a friend, possible lover. What c’n I say Luv… Hope you’re still that…”

“Are you kidding? Tell me you don’t doubt…”

Spike leaned down and was pulled into a warm hug followed by a firm, possessive kiss. “Don’t worry your pretty head. Here for the long haul is me – just need to hear it now ‘n then. Missed you Pet.”

Xander visibly relaxed, “Missed you too… Ghod how I missed you.”

“Well… man ‘o substance now. Can’t keep me boy waitin’.” With that Spike straddled Xander, pushed the presents out of the way and began to make up for lost time, kissing him soundly and in a way that, even in their imagined forms on the beach, Xander could not have anticipated. There was ownership, desperation, love, and something more Xander could not quite place but that sent a message to Little Xander that had him instantly hard and wanting.

Spike lifted a little and looked down then smirked a little, “Need some help with that Pet?”

“Ghod you have no idea!”

Spike obliged by scooting down the bed, swiftly taking Little Xander in his hot mouth and began to service his friend with a well educated, enthusiastic mouth. Xander arched immediately, groaned loudly and gave in to the exquisite sensation, coming in seconds. 

Spike collapsed shortly after Xander, not coming himself, but satisfied by the “I love you. Thank…” from the injured man, and the relaxed sleep that followed.

The morning saw a different scenario, Xander divulging all that had occurred at the opening and days that followed and handing Spike the contract from Wolfram and Hart so hastily drawn up regards his commissioned piece.

“Bloody Hell Luv… They’re obviously up to something… And Dru deserves better than even a sculpture of herself bein’ with that lot. Although if she came back ‘n bit ‘em it could be funny!”

“I… I really had thought of that… but…? I don’t think they’ll give up somehow… Adrianna has rung twice since I got home.”

“P’raps it’s time to call in the invalid card Luv. Tell ‘em you’ve got a lot of rest and recuperatin’ to do before you’re ready to promise anything.”

“I guess… But how do I…?”

“Reckon the Mistress is just the ticket Luv. Sort of like your Mum ringin’ the school when you’re poorly.”

“My Mom never really did that… Well once.”

“There you go then. Now I don’t know about you but shut eye is all I need at the mo’.”

Xander visibly relaxed, kissed Spike then mumbled, “Yeah, shut eye all of the good.”

…………

The Mistress was more than happy making the call to Wolfram and Hart, and two days later took off for Finland and the Solstice celebrations. And Xander recovered.

His students at the community college were happy to see him back, and those new in the summer course listened intently as he gave his usual ‘safety with power tools’ lecture, convinced that his missing digits were somehow related.

And while Xander recuperated, Spike struggled with coming to terms with his new human status. He wrote and read, and made some effort to assist Xander and Matti in the workshop but was only marginally interested and took to fetching cold drinks and generally complimenting the craftsmen on their skill. The majority of his time was spent on the computer or cell phone, his financial interests apparently something he felt more than comfortable dealing with.

One rather wet and dreary weekend, he and Xander took a drive to find his family grave in Surrey, something that seemed to both comfort and upset Spike in equal measure. They visited the tiny marker for his younger sister Mavis, who had died of measles aged three; his mother’s grave that Spike knew contained nothing, not even her ashes; his father’s, who died of typhoid courtesy of the Thames from a time it was rife in London; and his own, the grave he had dug out of spitting mud to be met by Dru and Angelus on a wintery evening in 1880.

Tears had been shed and a very quiet Spike drove home that evening, Xander worried that the visit had been a mistake, but also unwilling to broach the issue with Spike who was designated driver (license courtesy of the Mistress and just a little magic) until he was ready. 

The report from the Mistress upon her return from the Solstice celebrations was a positive one. Amongst other things Willow had sent her love, and the joint covens had agreed to accept Spike into their fold as an honorary member, freeing up the Mistress to offer to train him in the Gaia’s arts should he so desire. Spike was touched and two weeks later began private lessons with the Mistress, and a day later Giles contacted Xander once more.

 

Part 25

The conversation with Giles was stilted at best, downright aversive at worst. Issues of the carving of Spike were easily diverted into other conversations of loves found and lost, memories of old Sunnydale battles, wins and defeats, all raised and deflected. More disturbing were questions pointing to Xander’s own allegiances which were successfully deflected but comments on is orientation hit a sore point so were met with a staunch ‘that’s my business for now if you don’t mind.”

In the end Giles had been a little too persistent, beyond what Xander thought was friendly interest, and the conversation had ended awkwardly with Giles asking Xander to reconsider the time frame for the carving of Drusilla, the premise that the Watchers’ Council interested in the carving themselves – for research purposes.

Xander didn’t buy it for a minute. Unsure whether the Watchers’ Council had ‘sided with the other’ but neither he nor Spike would have been unsurprised if they had their own agenda for the carving of a notorious vampire. Xander’s accurate memory of the Council’s treatment of Buffy in her early days, and the effort to wipe out Spike prior to the last stand still fresh in his mind. That and the unwillingness of the Council to intervene in a number of the African conflicts that had seen a fair few Slayers dead soured his opinion and had far too much weight when it came to not trusting the group. His only worry, that he could not work out why Giles was now apparently one of the ‘inner circle’ and was, at least in part, complicit with the Wolfram and Hart plans.

By the time he hung up, Xander had decided his injuries would make the production of the requested carving might just be put on the ‘backburner’ perhaps never to happen. The Mistress had already made the point on his behalf that it would be at least months and there was no reason he should not use that time frame, regardless of the Watcher Council’s agenda. He rang the Mistress on her mobile to debrief for a few minutes regards the same, was offered the expected full support of the covens and reassured that then wandered outside. 

A day later there was an issue far closer to home. 

Spike had been distinctly maudlin since his visit to the graves of his family, and Xander worried, no manner of reassuring sex seemed to lift the mood. Finally, on a slow Saturday of lunch followed by a few relaxed glasses of wine, Spike admitted the source of his angst.

They were sitting on the back porch, with the afternoon summer sun lighting the surrounds, Xander put the half empty bottle of wine behind them both, rounding on the far too quiet Spike and challenging him, “You want to explain? Or would you rather... Ghodess Spike… How can I help?”

Spike felt his newborn sense of humanity push through with a vengeance, heart racing and sinking feeling in the stomach coming to the fore, “Don’t think you can Pet… Seems as I’m out of place… Not with you… Never with you… Just… I’ve done so much damage… And really don’t know why I got the free pass or where I fit any more… You know…? Can do all the niceties an’ bankin’ an’ so on, but time has changed nothing at all, tried puttin’ an end to the stinkin’ thinkin’, but it don’t matter. I owe too many too much… Don’t deserve the sun… Should be dead ‘n gone and now still got the demon in me see? It’s part o’ me forever! How can you love that?? No one has before. You deserve so much better!! T’would have been better that I went down fightin’… Not worthy of you pet… not in the least. Was there when this was happenin’, you know that? Dru & I feasted and cheered… but now… should’ve been me ten times over plus some… I’m sorry…” Tears streamed down Spike’s alabaster cheeks now pink with emotion and a little sun.

Xander kissed the forehead of his lover and held on as they both sat listening to another round of the song that had Spike so upset.

Well, how do you do, Young Willie McBride,   
Do you mind if I sit down here down by your graveside?   
And rest for awhile neath the warm summer sun,   
I've been walkin' all day, and I'm nearly done.   
I see by your gravestone you were only 19   
When you joined the great fallen in 1916,   
I hope you died well and I hope you died clean   
Or, Young Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene? 

Did they Beat the drum slowly, did the play the fife lowly?   
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?   
Did the band play The Last Post and chorus?   
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest? 

Did you leave a young wife or a sweetheart behind?  
In some fateful night is your memory enshrined?   
Although you died back in 1916,   
In that fateful heart are you forever 19?   
Or are you a stranger without even a name,   
Enclosed and Forever behind a glass pane,   
In an old photograph, torn and battered and stained,   
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame? 

The sun now it shines on the green fields of France;   
The warm summer breeze, that makes the red poppies dance.   
And look how the sun shines from under the clouds  
No gas, no barbed wire, there's no gun firing now.   
But here in this graveyard that's still No Man's Land   
The countless white crosses stand mute in sand   
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man.   
To a whole generation that were butchered and damned. 

Ah Young Willie McBride, I can't help but wonder why  
Do those who lie here know why that they died?   
Did they believe them when they answered "The Cause?"   
Did they really believe that this war would end wars?   
Well sound of the suffering, the glory, the pain   
The killin', and dying, were all done in vain,   
For Willie McBride, it all happened again,   
And again, and again, and again, and again.” (The Green Fields of France – the Fureys)

Spike’s tears would not be checked as he hugged tight to his lover, continuing to stroke over the so injured hand in its elegant purpose made glove. All Xander could make out was the last refrain “and again and again and again.”

Eventually Xander used his good hand to stroke through the long dark blonde locks of his lover and whispered, “Why that song Spike?”

“Was there… in 1916… Dru ‘n me. Wars are the vampire’s smorgasbord ya see. But even as a vamp… Not cheerin’ for any side makes you see things. The futility, the desperation of the foot soldiers, the stupidity and greed of the ruling classes. Seen it again and again. Demon world got nothin’ on human carnage. No accountin’ for human hatred pet, when it’s all still about power there’s no tellin’ when it’ll happen again… Lost me ol’ Sire for a good cause in the end, tryin’ to even the balance for the good… Bloody Hero of an Irish git to the end. He would’ve called me a weak sod for cryin’ for ‘im now. Hell Angelus would’ve whipped me, but we stood together ensouled vampires and committed to take back the power for the benefit of… the cause of ‘right’, an’ I still couldn’t save ‘im. Now gotta wonder why I was the one given another shot at real life, see?” 

“You were a champion too… more times over than you can probably count… And you’re a champion to me Spike, you earned your second chance.”

Spike wiped away more tears with an angry hand and stood with his back to Xander and put his face toward the sun before adding. “Couldn’t save you either though could I? Not your eye, not your hand… ‘N now you’ve got the Watcher bloody Council and the lawyers to the damned peckin’ at your heels.”

“You saved my life, my other eye, and my lonely heart, and I’d give my other hand if I knew it would help you now.”

“Oh Pet… I *never* want to see you there again either Luv… Ever! An’ me like this, what chance of savin’ you is there? Bloody useless me now - not a demon, an’ not truly even human, even if Gaia *has* forgiven my presence.” As though to make a point Spike turned and stood arms outstretched in the sun and faced his lover for a moment before turning away again to hug himself and let his head drop in defeat.

Xander pushed up with a slight groan and grabbed the blonde around the waist, hugging him tight from behind and bent down a little until his mouth was pressed firmly against Spike’s turning mark that had somehow survived his restoration. “We’ll work it out together OK?”

“Sorry ::sniff:: Guess I’m just havin’ a moment Pet.” 

The music played on and “Anniversary Song” somehow taking the last of the heat from Spike’s argument and explained appropriately what they both felt at that moment.

As the music continued they rocked in time for a moment, Xander encouraging Spike to rest back against his strong chest then whispered, “Moments are all of the good. We’ll work this through together… And I’m not being sentimental or ridiculous or over optimistic… But we are both survivors Spike… We’ve got that… and each other. Let’s us do this *together*. Not just you against the slayer, the humans, Angelus, the demon world, whatever… We’re in this together OK? Can you accept that… just that small start? We won’t get it right all the time, but it’s *us* this time… not you looking after me – it’s reciprocal OK?! I’m not mad or mean or hopeless, and yes I might be a mere human… But I love you and together we will make this work.”

Spike spun on his heel, grabbed Xander around the waist and gave him a breathtaking desperate kiss that continued until both men had to part for need of air before the act was reciprocated with much the same end. Xander eventually led a compliant Spike into their shared bedroom gently (if a little awkwardly) stripped first his lover then himself before pushing them both down and covering the ex-vampire with his bigger form and began to make sweet love.

Xander stopped caressing only enough to reassure and bless his lover over and over. “We both have things to be sorry for sweetheart.”; “the demon is part of you – wouldn’t want anything else”; “you complete me Spike, and I love *you* as you are now and what you might become”; “please take me now Spike… William… take and accept me”. 

As both completed and Spike rolled off to spoon his taller partner he licked then kissed Xander’s neck and finally whispered, “In this for the long haul if you’ll have me. In it together then.”

Xander smiled to himself, twisted awkwardly to kiss Spike on the forehead and used one of the ex-vampire’s own quips with a very bad attempt at an accent “Now you’re gettin’ it Pet!” which earned him a light slap on the rump though he could feel Spike’s grin at his shoulder blades as they fell into slumber. 

 

The morning saw Xander abandoning all notions of ‘happy fairy’ themes with his sculpture, instead resolving to depict some of the WW1 images that had so upset his dearest, and to settle the matter in a tribute to not just the WW1 but also the WW2 carnage.

Later that day, he found Spike on the back porch, after another session with the wiccans, listening to a rather sad but pointed song by Robbie Williams, and wondered.   
William/Spike looked up slowly with a smile that was both resolved and on the edge of ‘knowing’.

“The Mistress has reminded me that we are protected and also… When were you going to tell me … You have a hyena and soldier spirit in you?”

“ I… I’m sorry Wil… It didn’t seem that big of a deal at the time… but yeah… not exactly whole human here… and really haven’t focused on that for a while. But yeah… not fully human me either.”

“Demon magnet makes all sorts of sense now. That why Africa called?”

“I guess it did in an odd sort of way. Never really considered, but I know it was why Willow contacted me and said I had to come here, something about ‘resolving things’. Strange when your oldest friend kind of knows stuff that you have no access to.”

“She’s always been the switched on witch, even when she went all black and scary. Still owe her for me present condition though, don’t I. Now… Let’s talk about the possessions, you telling me I’ve been with more than just the gorgeous Xander of old? Not that I’m complaining but just like to know."

And Spike still worried. 

Nightmares plagued that night and Xander woke to whimpering and cries of distress. All he could do was hold on.

William/Spike was strung out and tired in the morning, but tried to put his ‘best foot forward’, quietly pushing the protective glove over Xander’s still aching injured hand and kissing him for good measure, assuring his dear protector, his lover, of his own good spirits.

Xander adjourned to the workshop, William/Spike went to his lessons at the coven and after lunch returned to their home to begin to sketch with charcoal for a time on a number of parchment pieces provided by his fellow students. It was something Mistress Yollanda had insisted he do to ‘resolve some things’. 

Engrossed in his task, he was startled when Xander touched his shoulder around four in the afternoon. 

“Bloody Hell – give me a right conniption! And now look – even managed to smudge the last bit!”

Xander smiled unrepentant and kissed Spike squarely on the lips before replying,   
“Yeah, Mr Unrepentanty here.” Then did it again for good measure.

“You know if I had done that whilst you were carvin’ me I could well have lost a limb… or worse!”

Xander stood back and simply smiled, “Good to have you back. The Mistress has clued me in to some of what you are worrying about, and seems it’s the same as what’s worrying the coven.”

“Don’t tell me… vampire with a soul then ghost then real then in the machine and now a real boy?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It’s far more than that now. You’re here and protected and if I ever get less of the wiggins when I go through that warding spell that’s around here I’ll go ‘he for tiggy’!”

At the last comment Spike (until this point looking concerned) sniggered and raised an eyebrow, which gave Xander the right to smile too. “’He for tiggy’??? Please tell me you haven’t been reading Christopher Robin again or we will seriously have to do ‘Pooh Sticks’ in the autumn.”

Xander gave a sly grin that was met by a, “What?? Don’t you dare grin without an…”

“Pooh sticks? That’s just... Let’s just do it anyways and I’ll put down one warding spell and raise you….”

William/Spike finished the sentence. ”A very good snogging.” 

“Well that and just… Can we talk?”

“Sounds ominous, Pet.”

“Not so much with the ominous, just that the Mistress said you’ve been a bit ‘off’ lately, and I’m sorry I haven’t picked that up as well as I should… So talk.” Xander couldn’t help but look at the sketch Spike had been working on. 

The title ‘One hand in the fryer’, featured death and mayhem in an nameless ally. It also had the rear view of a blackened version of what could be interpreted as Angel falling to the talons of a huge, winged, not particularly descript, foe… or it may have been someone else, Xander was unsure. 

William/Spike put down the board holding the parchment and turned properly to face his savior, or more lately, lover. As he did, a second sketch fell from behind the most recent one, a picture of the back of an angel whose wings were cut off, the back bleeding and the figure holding knife in one hand and severed wings in the other.  
William/Spike stared at the second, fallen sketch then raised his eyes to meet Xander’s one. 

“Just that innit? Ah geez Xan?! I’m a freak of the unnatural, or more recently the natural thanks to you, and I just don’t seem to know where I fit. Human then not; vampire then not; ghost then back to demon and then nothing; then you save me, and now not even either. And now the coven and you are being targeted *because* of me… And I know, oh yeah I do know this… The demon is there Xan, I can feel it, remember it, still live its memories. And all I can think about is how much I’ve cost you and still a bloody bad excuse for… anything really.”

Xander held up his maimed hand, looked his dearest friend and lover squarely in the eye and stated very slowly, “This was *my* decision, Spike, I would have done anything to get you back here. No regrets OK? You saved…”

“Your other eye. Yeah told me that, but should have saved the first and now not even able to do that. No demon fighting skills here. Condemned to sort sommit with the magicks aren’t I? Learning all sorts of hocus pocus, but it’s not gonna fix anythin’. And now they want Dru. Don’t even know if she’s still around do I?

“Girls at the coven (and boys for the measure) are all nice and such, but I still feel like I’m gonna bring this place down somehow. Giles on our heels ‘n all, and no tellin’ his agenda. And oh yeah, before you mention, I’ve already talked to the Mistress regardin’ the Wolfram ‘n bloody Hart connection. Seems that they’ve done a bit of a number on him - tracked down old records of ‘is Ripper years ‘n using it to push ‘im in that direction again.”

“So you’re telling me Giles is evil? I mean I know he’s been kind of weird about the whole carving Spike thing… then…” Xander paused mid-sentence for a moment as something of the previous rant occurred.

“What if *you* knew that Dru was still around. I mean *really* around. Then they couldn’t touch her right? I mean your demon must be able to feel that… and with a bit of extra mojo… You could tell right?”

“What good would it do?”

Xander grinned then leaned toward Spike for an unannounced quick peck on the cheek,   
“It means I can carve her, the W&H mob and Giles (if he’s part of it) try to restore her to the carving and it fails then they’re all off our back!”

“Dunno, Pet. Last I heard she was in Brazil with that…” William/Spike turned his head and spat deliberately on the floor, “Chaos demon then took on Darla in LA… after that… nothing. Not surprising though, was never the one for her despite a hundred plus years of care and concern.”

Xander looked surprisingly pleased, pointed his remaining right finger (thumb tucked away for effect) and stated “So we find out if she’s still around. And if so we carve the thing. Wolfram and Hart don’t get their vampire, and then we sort out what’s happening with Giles. And we’ll sort the rest out. But in the meantime, can you sketch something a little more positive? Hardly a fallen angel to me.” Xander kissed William/Spike soundly then moved to make them both a bowl of soup and bread for dinner (with a ‘beer chaser’). 

After Xander fell asleep on the couch with television still blaring, William/Spike took up the computer, did a few monetary transactions then contacted Willow.

“Need your help, Red. Matter of an old girlfriend and a mutual ‘acquaintance’.”

 

TBC

 

The song words for Better Man - Robbie Williams

Send someone to love me  
I need to rest in arms  
Keep me safe from harm  
In pouring rain

Give me endless summer  
Lord I fear the cold  
Feel I'm getting old  
Before my time

As my soul heals the shame  
I will grow through this pain  
Lord I'm doing all I can  
To be a better man

Go easy on my conscience  
'Cause it's not my fault  
I know I've been taught  
To take the blame

Rest assured my angels  
Will catch my tears  
Walk me out of here  
I'm in pain

As my soul heals the shame  
I will grow through this pain  
Lord I'm doing all I can  
To be a better man

Once you've found that lover  
You're homeward bound  
Love is all around  
Love is all around

I know some have fallen  
On stony ground  
But Love is all around

Send someone to love me  
I need to rest in arms  
Keep me safe from harm  
In pouring rain

Give me endless summer  
Lord I fear the cold  
Feel I'm getting old  
Before my time

As my soul heals the shame  
I will grow through this pain  
Lord I'm doin' all I can  
To be a better man

 

Chapter 27

The next day could not have been more different. 

Xander woke early as usual, barely after six, but found himself alone in their shared bed. He swiftly tipped onto the floor, donned a robe and swore as his knee hit the corner of the wodden base of the king sized bed, determined to seek out his lover and worried that Spike may have done... well he wasn't all that sure.

Instead of the distress of the past few weeks he found a disheaveled Spike typing madly at the computer in the corner of their darkened loungeroom come kitchen.

"Tell me this isn't bad... Is it bad?"

Spike spun around with a sly grin on his face, "Nah Pet, it's bloody brilliant, but you've gotta promise me sommit."

Xander was still only half awake and somewhat perplexed but still managed a put upon, "OK... What now?"

"Gotta act as if it's business as usual... 'cept for one thing."

Xander was curious, "And that would be?"

"Have ta call me William or Wil... always... from now on."

"But Spike wh..."

"'S all part of the plan."

"Plan? What plan? And I thought..." He stared at Spike hard, trying to discern the reasoning without adding more.

"You do introduce me as that now - a given - but have ta do it in private too. See if anyone clues in and there's a slip sometime... Just do this one thing OK? I'm goin' after the bastards at W&H and Ripper, if he's part of it, so need to change a few things. Hair is not an issue..."

"I love your longer hair, and the colour, though do miss the..."

"Me, don't miss the burn of peroxide. Never picked you for likin' it though. Anyway... Mistress is sortin' some contacts. 

Make me peepers look dark green, saves cluein' in the not so friendlies. 'N thinkin' of growin' a bit of a beard, somthin' roagishly stylish, a goatie."

Xander was even more confused. "Spike... sorry Wil, why?"

"Cause you twonk, need 'em to *continue* to think I'm done and dusted. Gives us a chance to catch 'em out as it were."

"Catch them out how?"

"Red's tracked down Dru."

Xander suddenly realized the implications and stared wide eyed at his lover. "Oh... How?"

Spike swung from his chair and stood in front of Xander with the most widest grin Xander had seen since their return from Finland. "Red did a spell... on the quiet mind. She's in Bolivia! Bloody brilliant! So she's still around. Don't you get   
it... your idea after all!" 

Xander still looked a little non-plussed.

"'Twas your idea pet! She's not dusted! Seems as she still has a thing for Chaos demons, and those buggers mess with the whole dusted or not scenario, no doubt the ooze from their antlers would do the trick! Willow has done some on the ground work through her contacts and it's confirmed that she's still around." Spike smiled a little at that, though still felt a pang of old hurt but smiled slyly in Xander's direction. 

"So... if we can get her somewhere safe, ward her (or bloody well tie her down - which wouldn't be a first) and then you do *your* bit with the wood and such. So... do the carving and they'll try to pull her back which they can't if she's still on   
this plane, then bloody Wolfram and Hart, can't restore their vamp from dust, and instead get a very nice art piece, and leave us *all* alone! I get to stay. You get to keep being the handsome one eyed artiste. An' Dru's off the hook for good."

Xander's face fell a little at the last statement. "You still care for her, don't you? I mean isn't she's still killing?"

Spike stepped into Xander's personal space at the last statement, pulled him close and kissed him soundly. "'Course she is Pet. And I do care for her, did for a hundred plus years, but I don't... not like *that* anymore before you ask. Just don't want the lawyers screwing her over like they did me ol' Sire, or Grand Sire (bitch Darla) for that matter. She may be dotty and deadly, but noone should be dragged back to human the way Darla, or me for that matter, was."

"Is that what you feel like... like you were pulled back here against... well everything?"

Spike tempered his excitement for a minute then replied slowly, "I'm still gettin' me feet on the whole human with a demon thing OK? But I know a couple o' facts you need to get your noggin around. I *want* to be with you. I *love* you. I *need* to feel useful. And I don't like others messin' with family!" He finished the statement with a firm kiss then waited.

Xander, still recovering from the moment, managed to process the whole scenario and made a point of using the name he would have to become used to, "So... Wil... What if I carve her and *we* (well OK the coven and co.) do the spell, then she..."

"She's mad as a bloody Hatter, Xan, and to my way of thinkin', the bloody Senior Partners only want her for her 'seeing' abilities and aught else. An' besides, she'd end up eatin' the help like last time (mind you, must have been a feast)" 

If Xander hadn't been around *Wil* for long enough, or known the history of both the Wolfram and Hart debarcle or the prior hundred plus years of keeping Dru safe, that might have been disturbing. 

Spike continued, "Unless they leashed 'er... and there's no justice in that. She'll likely be stuck forever in one of their vaults, only to be pulled out on demand. Like keepin' a tiger in a cage then feedin' it only when you need sommit done to match some warped agenda."

"And Willow can find her?"

Spike raised an eyebrow and simply stated, "Which part did you miss? She's already found her."

"So what now? I mean, do we have to get her here or something?"

"Here's not a good idea pet. Wolfram and Hart get a whiff of the plot they'll be all over it. No, we head off on a bit of a holiday, your recouperation or some such. Make contact and..."

"What? Get eaten?!!"

Spike had the courtesy to look a little miffed, "Well... that is a possibility. But Xan I still have the demon in me, you know that and so will Dru. It might be a little awkward at f..."

Xander was utterly inscenced, "A *little* awkward??!! What? She chomps on me then you two have it off... or the other way around?? I thought..."

Spike pushed his lover away for a moment but kept physical contact via a hand on hip, then said very slowly, "There is .nothing. .between. .us. .now. My demon will simply call to hers, making the message easier for her to understand. She 

simply needs to get *warded* so the psychics or Senior Partners can't find her essence. They rely on accurate locator spells, the Chaos demon she hangs with has done a pretty good job so far." Spike stopped to spit on the ground and quote a bastardized line from the head of Wolfram and Hart in Rome, "We shall speak of him no more."

Then continued, "We need to be sure they can't get to her in any way. Xan... do you understand? Please sweetheart? We need to do this... not just for her, for the coven... and perhaps even for Giles."

Xander relented, pulled Spike into a warm hug then commented, "Maybe dark red hair would look good on you since it's so long? With the green eyes you could even pass for Irish?!"

Xander earned a solid slap on the backside for the comment, "Bloody hell! English here! I'll dye it black afore I go down that track."

Spike extracted himself from the embrace and stomped toward the bathroom tugging at his unruly locks and muttering expletives. For Xander it was a somewhat wonderful light relief. They had much to do, and the Mistress Yollanda (and Willow) was already informed of their plans. The somewhat disgruntled Xander having to admit that the two women were probably far more informed than he had been!

Xander forwent a shower, instead pushing his head under the faucet in the kitchen and half drying with a tea-towel before pulling a comb harshly through his tangled locks and stomping off to get changed. He pecked Spike on the cheek and mumbled an "I'll be in the workshop if you need me." The throw away comment resulting in his *William*   
grabbing his arm (with what he would still describe, supernatural type strength given their relative sizes) spinning him and pressing him against the alcove next to the door. 

"Don't get away with leavin' all angry 'n such. Who do I belong to?"

Xander was so busy being 'nonplussed' he almost missed the growl that was *definitely* demonic. He managed to squeak out a "You!" before his lips were claimed and a strong male hand found his nether regions.

"Too bloody right you do. Now you go do your thing with the fancy fairy sculptures 'n let me get on with the rest of this mess."

As Xander extracted himself and made to leave, his partner threw another comment that would have him thinking all day, "By the way, did I mention, looking to head back over the drink to sort a few money matters, trip for two, you 'n me, weekend after next. Gather some Euros, a few good shags and call in a couple of favors"

Xander tried a scowl but simply managed a simple puzzled look then ground out (as he headed out and pulled the door shut) "You're incorrigible *William*!"

Spike raced to open the door only to be in time to see the back of his lover almost entering the workshop, "Didn't think they taught that word in US schools anymore."

For that he was happy to see a glove covered single finger, may not have been the right digit, the sentiment was all there. 

.............................

Later that afternoon Matti and the two wiccans who had made it their business to 'skill up' in the woodworking department were as stunned as Xander as a grinning, *green* eyed, dark brown haired (with stylish highlights), William graced their presence. His clothes were styled in up-market London fashion, understated in their 'I'm a rich kid' fashion, temporary tatoo showing on his lower arm, short stubble of a goatie beard showing, and 'skater' shoes to complete the look.

"Pushed some things forward is all. Flights are booked for tomorrow. So what ya think of the do? Girls at the coven were quite into the whole... change thing." 

Xander was rather taken aback. "I... You... How do you do that?! How do you always..."

"Look so devilishly handsome, no matter the era? Point here is luv, only you get to recognize me for the 'blondie bear' that once was... Hope you like it?" Spike shot a look toward Xander that could be interpreted as a little vulnerable.

Xander shook himself then replied, "No! Fabulous! But how... Oh don't worry... Any news from Willow or you know?"

"Got a good heads up, but needs be, take a day or two to sort things, then it's all hands on, if you get my drift. Hence the 'short break'. You don't have to start the carving 'til next week, and we have a bit of 'business' to deal with in the meantime. And before you go fretting... Mistress has given me a spell that'll sort the customs folks re the new look, *and* I fully intend to treat ya nice this weekend." 

The two wiccan's giggled audibly and Matti grinned. It had been a while since he saw Xander smile, and the waning light of the afternoon seemed to light up his face.

Xander turned to his fellow workers, "I guess we can pack up for the day. And it seems like I'm out of the shop for a few, so you guys work on your own stuff... OK?"

The three simply smiled and nodded, and Matti added, "No problem Xan, we'll deal."

 

Chapter 27

The next day could not have been more different. 

Xander woke early as usual, barely after six, but found himself alone in their shared bed. He swiftly tipped onto the floor, donned a robe and swore as his knee hit the corner of the wodden base of the king sized bed, determined to seek out his lover and worried that Spike may have done... well he wasn't all that sure.

Instead of the distress of the past few weeks he found a disheaveled Spike typing madly at the computer in the corner of their darkened loungeroom come kitchen.

"Tell me this isn't bad... Is it bad?"

Spike spun around with a sly grin on his face, "Nah Pet, it's bloody brilliant, but you've gotta promise me sommit."

Xander was still only half awake and somewhat perplexed but still managed a put upon, "OK... What now?"

"Gotta act as if it's business as usual... 'cept for one thing."

Xander was curious, "And that would be?"

"Have ta call me William or Wil... always... from now on."

"But Spike wh..."

"'S all part of the plan."

"Plan? What plan? And I thought..." He stared at Spike hard, trying to discern the reasoning without adding more.

"You do introduce me as that now - a given - but have ta do it in private too. See if anyone clues in and there's a slip sometime... Just do this one thing OK? I'm goin' after the bastards at W&H and Ripper, if he's part of it, so need to change a few things. Hair is not an issue..."

"I love your longer hair, and the colour, though do miss the..."

"Me, don't miss the burn of peroxide. Never picked you for likin' it though. Anyway... Mistress is sortin' some contacts. 

Make me peepers look dark green, saves cluein' in the not so friendlies. 'N thinkin' of growin' a bit of a beard, somthin' roagishly stylish, a goatie."

Xander was even more confused. "Spike... sorry Wil, why?"

"Cause you twonk, need 'em to *continue* to think I'm done and dusted. Gives us a chance to catch 'em out as it were."

"Catch them out how?"

"Red's tracked down Dru."

Xander suddenly realized the implications and stared wide eyed at his lover. "Oh... How?"

Spike swung from his chair and stood in front of Xander with the most widest grin Xander had seen since their return from Finland. "Red did a spell... on the quiet mind. She's in Bolivia! Bloody brilliant! So she's still around. Don't you get   
it... your idea after all!" 

Xander still looked a little non-plussed.

"'Twas your idea pet! She's not dusted! Seems as she still has a thing for Chaos demons, and those buggers mess with the whole dusted or not scenario, no doubt the ooze from their antlers would do the trick! Willow has done some on the ground work through her contacts and it's confirmed that she's still around." Spike smiled a little at that, though still felt a pang of old hurt but smiled slyly in Xander's direction. 

"So... if we can get her somewhere safe, ward her (or bloody well tie her down - which wouldn't be a first) and then you do *your* bit with the wood and such. So... do the carving and they'll try to pull her back which they can't if she's still on   
this plane, then bloody Wolfram and Hart, can't restore their vamp from dust, and instead get a very nice art piece, and leave us *all* alone! I get to stay. You get to keep being the handsome one eyed artiste. An' Dru's off the hook for good."

Xander's face fell a little at the last statement. "You still care for her, don't you? I mean isn't she's still killing?"

Spike stepped into Xander's personal space at the last statement, pulled him close and kissed him soundly. "'Course she is Pet. And I do care for her, did for a hundred plus years, but I don't... not like *that* anymore before you ask. Just don't want the lawyers screwing her over like they did me ol' Sire, or Grand Sire (bitch Darla) for that matter. She may be dotty and deadly, but noone should be dragged back to human the way Darla, or me for that matter, was."

"Is that what you feel like... like you were pulled back here against... well everything?"

Spike tempered his excitement for a minute then replied slowly, "I'm still gettin' me feet on the whole human with a demon thing OK? But I know a couple o' facts you need to get your noggin around. I *want* to be with you. I *love* you. I *need* to feel useful. And I don't like others messin' with family!" He finished the statement with a firm kiss then waited.

Xander, still recovering from the moment, managed to process the whole scenario and made a point of using the name he would have to become used to, "So... Wil... What if I carve her and *we* (well OK the coven and co.) do the spell, then she..."

"She's mad as a bloody Hatter, Xan, and to my way of thinkin', the bloody Senior Partners only want her for her 'seeing' abilities and aught else. An' besides, she'd end up eatin' the help like last time (mind you, must have been a feast)" 

If Xander hadn't been around *Wil* for long enough, or known the history of both the Wolfram and Hart debarcle or the prior hundred plus years of keeping Dru safe, that might have been disturbing. 

Spike continued, "Unless they leashed 'er... and there's no justice in that. She'll likely be stuck forever in one of their vaults, only to be pulled out on demand. Like keepin' a tiger in a cage then feedin' it only when you need sommit done to match some warped agenda."

"And Willow can find her?"

Spike raised an eyebrow and simply stated, "Which part did you miss? She's already found her."

"So what now? I mean, do we have to get her here or something?"

"Here's not a good idea pet. Wolfram and Hart get a whiff of the plot they'll be all over it. No, we head off on a bit of a holiday, your recouperation or some such. Make contact and..."

"What? Get eaten?!!"

Spike had the courtesy to look a little miffed, "Well... that is a possibility. But Xan I still have the demon in me, you know that and so will Dru. It might be a little awkward at f..."

Xander was utterly inscenced, "A *little* awkward??!! What? She chomps on me then you two have it off... or the other way around?? I thought..."

Spike pushed his lover away for a moment but kept physical contact via a hand on hip, then said very slowly, "There is .nothing. .between. .us. .now. My demon will simply call to hers, making the message easier for her to understand. She 

simply needs to get *warded* so the psychics or Senior Partners can't find her essence. They rely on accurate locator spells, the Chaos demon she hangs with has done a pretty good job so far." Spike stopped to spit on the ground and quote a bastardized line from the head of Wolfram and Hart in Rome, "We shall speak of him no more."

Then continued, "We need to be sure they can't get to her in any way. Xan... do you understand? Please sweetheart? We need to do this... not just for her, for the coven... and perhaps even for Giles."

Xander relented, pulled Spike into a warm hug then commented, "Maybe dark red hair would look good on you since it's so long? With the green eyes you could even pass for Irish?!"

Xander earned a solid slap on the backside for the comment, "Bloody hell! English here! I'll dye it black afore I go down that track."

Spike extracted himself from the embrace and stomped toward the bathroom tugging at his unruly locks and muttering expletives. For Xander it was a somewhat wonderful light relief. They had much to do, and the Mistress Yollanda (and Willow) was already informed of their plans. The somewhat disgruntled Xander having to admit that the two women were probably far more informed than he had been!

Xander forwent a shower, instead pushing his head under the faucet in the kitchen and half drying with a tea-towel before pulling a comb harshly through his tangled locks and stomping off to get changed. He pecked Spike on the cheek and mumbled an "I'll be in the workshop if you need me." The throw away comment resulting in his *William*   
grabbing his arm (with what he would still describe, supernatural type strength given their relative sizes) spinning him and pressing him against the alcove next to the door. 

"Don't get away with leavin' all angry 'n such. Who do I belong to?"

Xander was so busy being 'nonplussed' he almost missed the growl that was *definitely* demonic. He managed to squeak out a "You!" before his lips were claimed and a strong male hand found his nether regions.

"Too bloody right you do. Now you go do your thing with the fancy fairy sculptures 'n let me get on with the rest of this mess."

As Xander extracted himself and made to leave, his partner threw another comment that would have him thinking all day, "By the way, did I mention, looking to head back over the drink to sort a few money matters, trip for two, you 'n me, weekend after next. Gather some Euros, a few good shags and call in a couple of favors"

Xander tried a scowl but simply managed a simple puzzled look then ground out (as he headed out and pulled the door shut) "You're incorrigible *William*!"

Spike raced to open the door only to be in time to see the back of his lover almost entering the workshop, "Didn't think they taught that word in US schools anymore."

For that he was happy to see a glove covered single finger, may not have been the right digit, the sentiment was all there. 

.............................

Later that afternoon Matti and the two wiccans who had made it their business to 'skill up' in the woodworking department were as stunned as Xander as a grinning, *green* eyed, dark brown haired (with stylish highlights), William graced their presence. His clothes were styled in up-market London fashion, understated in their 'I'm a rich kid' fashion, temporary tatoo showing on his lower arm, short stubble of a goatie beard showing, and 'skater' shoes to complete the look.

"Pushed some things forward is all. Flights are booked for tomorrow. So what ya think of the do? Girls at the coven were quite into the whole... change thing." 

Xander was rather taken aback. "I... You... How do you do that?! How do you always..."

"Look so devilishly handsome, no matter the era? Point here is luv, only you get to recognize me for the 'blondie bear' that once was... Hope you like it?" Spike shot a look toward Xander that could be interpreted as a little vulnerable.

Xander shook himself then replied, "No! Fabulous! But how... Oh don't worry... Any news from Willow or you know?"

"Got a good heads up, but needs be, take a day or two to sort things, then it's all hands on, if you get my drift. Hence the 'short break'. You don't have to start the carving 'til next week, and we have a bit of 'business' to deal with in the meantime. And before you go fretting... Mistress has given me a spell that'll sort the customs folks re the new look, *and* I fully intend to treat ya nice this weekend." 

The two wiccan's giggled audibly and Matti grinned. It had been a while since he saw Xander smile, and the waning light of the afternoon seemed to light up his face.

Xander turned to his fellow workers, "I guess we can pack up for the day. And it seems like I'm out of the shop for a few, so you guys work on your own stuff... OK?"

The three simply smiled and nodded, and Matti added, "No problem Xan, we'll deal."

 

Part 28

 

The following day saw Xander and Spike (aka William) travelling to Heathrow driven by Matti. 

Much back slapping hugs and farewells ensued and the two took off to Geneva.  
Xander was still a little put off by Spike's 'new look' but the smile was the same, as was his charming of the female attendants on the plane... and the male ones, if Xander was not mistaken!

Their arrival in Geneva and consequent ushering into a waiting limosine, was followed by a welcome worthy of only the rich at the Angleterre (five star) hotel established in 1872 was something Xander had not expected. 

Spike was welcomed as would be a long time aged patron, and as it turned out that was not far from the truth. Xander's' wiggins' arching up when the *Head* Concierge ushered them to their suite. 

Jean-Paul was obviously of mixed heritage, demon being a case in point. Middle-aged in appearance, he deferred to the former vampire then inquired about politely about William's needs whilst in their care; was informed that Xander was the 'significant other'; and nodded politely as the request for absolute privacy was acknowledged with a knowing look. 

His wife was also part demon and, as it happened, part human wiccan, so he had been informed of the W&H threat, and been instructed by Spike ahead of time, so understood that there was absolute discretion involved with their visit. It would be no problem. 

He was used to the high paying customers and the need for silence.

The last time the young Mr Aurelius had visited, he had been both polite and generous regards Jean-Paul and his team of attendants' efforts at a 'very difficult time'. 

The thanks on departure was expressed by a whole case of Bollinger delivered for the staff to partake, and a bottle of Château De Beaulon cognac for Jean-Paul's personal enjoyment, plus an enormous bunch of flowers for his dear wife... So it was apparent that apart from 'William's' magical signature, this was *no* normal, pretentious or 'stingy rich-boy' guest. He suspected royalty (of either human or demon origin) and was more than happy to treat William the same. His recent (and obviously deliberate) change of appearance was unsurprising, as many of their celebrity guests chose that as a foil for the waiting photographers, but his friend was somewhat of a mystery.   
Jean-Paul sent a text to his wife, Ellamine, who very swiftly answered. "Artiste of the moment, sculptor, several possessions, lives and works at coven in UK. Former resident of US."

Jean-Paul suspected there was more but ceased communications. William had been most specific during his last visit. 

There was something, or someone, trying to trace his movements and/or get their hands on his familial money. This was just *not* going to happen. His wife and he had also worked so hard to 'fly under the radar' and understood what that meant for a couple who apparently were just starting out - albeit with a lovely 'dowry' but still...

He forewent texting in favor of simply asking his wife as she came in the front door of their apartment, "Can you ward William Aurelius' suite?"

His statuesque wife stood back on her four inch heels for a moment, processed the name, then threw her head back, eyes going black, and called upon the power of Gaia. A flash later and Ellamine stood straight and smiled at her life partner, "So that's done... Where's my ‘after spell’ champagne?"

Jean-Paul grinned, loved her a little more and was more than happy to oblige. Post spell, they settled in front of the television to watch parts of the recorded Monte Carlo F1, and parts of a rather average police/CSI episode (depending who had the controls!)  
………………

Lilah was standing in the London offices of Wolfram and Hart, fuming prior to the meeting with the overly confident Sarah and the rather depressed looking reinstated Watcher (courtesy of W&H) Mr Giles, so began the conversation with a curt “Good Morning” then began to drive her point.

“ I assumed that we would have the new statue by now… though it seems this Mr Harris was injured in some ‘hilarious’ accident and so we must put our plans back some months. Mister Giles, what do you know of this?”

Giles sat forward on the rather uncomfortable settee then answered, “He had an unfortunate accident in the workshop, and has consequently had several digits removed.   
His recovery, however, is progressing.”

The aging Watcher was becoming more and more guarded in his answers as he began to assume there was more afoot than met the eye, so added quickly, “ I am assured that he is taking a short break from his work to recover and recuperate.”

Lilah was quick to push in, “With his new squeeze. Yes we all know that! So what will it take to compel him to finish his next piece? Hmm?? Money? A permanent commission? 

You are the expert here Mr Giles. Apart from the new ‘boy’, what spins his dial? I happen to know he is not short of money, or investment prowess – and yes we *have* all the figures.”

“I… I’m not sure. But if he has given his word then I can only assume you will have your sculpture.”

Sarah jumped in, “It is reported that Mr Harris has departed for a sojourn in Europe   
for a week or two, destination unknown, and though we have yet to determine for how long and where, we do have an indication that his intent is for a period of rest and accessing some remedial therapy to assist his use of the injured hand. “

Lilah was still angry, and therefore persistent, “So, Sarah, I surmise you*still* cannot give me the ‘where or what’ is going on!”

Sarah had the courtesy to look contrite, “No Ma’am, but we will.”

“And who are ‘we’? The wizards? The covens? The seers?” Lilah stood from her desk, the extra five inches of heel on her designer shoes giving the required impact. 

“You have three days to report back. And if nothing comes of it, you, Mr Giles may well find yourself ousted from the Watchers’ Council if you fail to use your influence to give the Senior Partners at W & H what it dearly desires. And take that as a warning. I am sure you need the Watchers position for now, your previous misdemeanors wiped, and of course, our generous contribution to your retirement fund, needs to be *all* taken into consideration… Ripper.”

Lilah then turned to Sarah, who paled, “As for you, my dear, there is a section of W & H that specializes in ‘donations’. So if you intend to donate your body parts only *after* your demise, then I suggest you apply yourself.”  
…………………..

Xander and ‘William’ spent their first night relaxing in what Xander would have described as a ‘palatial’ suite -two rooms plus a wonderfully appointed bathroom with spa. They ordered in and spent a great deal of their time petting, safe in the knowledge that a) apparently Spike owned the hotel, and b) that it was warded against any malicious surveillance on the part of Wolfram and Hart.

The following day was equally amazing to Xander. After a fitful breakfast, he was ushered into a private limousine by Jean-Paul , and then was stunned at the Swiss Bank of Spike/the Aurelian’s choosing, when Spike negotiated in perfect Swiss/German that he become a silent signatory to what amounted to a fortune – even only on the computer readout. 

Post the appropriate paperwork (double signed and witnessed) was complete, Spike led him to the ‘family vault’, explained each piece and its current worth, then had him vow never to disclose the contents, or their value. There was no question, it was literally millions of dollars worth, and Xander felt humbled to be the ‘second in line’ to protecting it.

After their successful venture to the bank, the two took in the sights of Geneva via the extended car, and on foot, in daylight, as Spike was keen to point out. His beautiful partner still coming to terms with his somewhat human status and immunity to sunlight.

Jean- Paul had taken the liberty of arranging dinner at a fashionable restaurant, so one of their stops was to acquaint Xander with the concept of ‘high end clothes shopping’. 

By the time they returned to the hotel to change and head out once more, Jean-Paul was grinning widely at ‘William’. His partner was certainly a looker.  
As they passed the desk on the way to the car, however, Spike paused and asked, “Any news of Dru?”

The reply was both succinct and jubilant, “She is apparently on her way to Paris, sir.”

It was enough for now and ‘William’ joined his friend in the car.

 

Part 29

Dinner was a triumph, and Spike could hardly take his eyes off Xander for long enough to remember to eat as Xander recounted their day of adventure with such enthusiasm that he positively glowed. Spike was also happy that his partner addressed him as William and omitted any details of their financial transactions, only alluding to the fact with an effusive description of the foyer of the bank, which even Spike had to admit was impressive.

Of the three outfits purchased for his ‘significant other’ on their little shopping adventure, Xander had chosen to wear the dark grey fitted pants, white silk button down shirt and the ‘chinese collar’ style, mid length black jacket with fine red detailing that literally spelt *expensive*. The 1kt diamond earring in his right lobe and gold bracelet on his left wrist were utterly appropriate, and the new haircut (still ‘fashionably long’ but now styled perfectly) completed the look. The eye patch was still in place, but for the first time in public, Xander had chosen not to wear the modified glove on his damaged right hand. 

Spike worried at the semi-embarrassed smile from his partner as Xander discretely put down his utensils and placed the hand in his lap whenever approached by the waiter, who seemed to continually interrupt the meal with very polite, but what Spike considered, ‘over attention’.

In the end, however, Spike had to admit enjoying every moment of the meal, particularly the look of pure joy on Xander’s face as the ‘dessert’ cart was presented and liquor coffees provided. 

His own human experience of eating human food was still new. He was pleased that the portions were moderate to small, but the repast wonderful. He finally asked for a pen and sent a beautifully scribed note to the head chef with their thanks as they sipped their coffees. 

Xander was amazed as the Chef d’ Jour, in full formal uniform, approached the table just as they were about to leave and thanked ‘Monsieur Aurelius’ for his compliment, and invited them to dine again ‘very soon’ in rather broken English. 

Spike answered in fluent French, “Comment avons-nous osé pas ? Votre restaurant est venu fortement - recommandé par un ami, Jean-Paul, et nous n'ont pas été déçus. Veuillez féliciter également votre personnel, comme je sais que nous avons seulement deux ans de vos wagon-restaurants ce soir. Chaque cours a été spectaculaire.”

The head chef seemed most pleased, ordered a round of Cognac for the table, and departed. But a rather puzzled Xander had to ask, in a whisper, “What did you write, OK and say?! Missed the French classes at school, but he seemed pretty pleased.”  
Spike leant over and just as conspiratorially, “Let him know on the note who I was, and simply told the bloke when he was here, that Jean-Paul had recommended here; that the meal was terrific; and he and his staff should be congratulated. ‘S only polite. Even Angelus would have done that… well and eaten that bloody waiter, but still…”

Xander sat perfectly still for a moment, then leant over to take Spike’s hand with his good one, “I keep forgetting to tell you how amazing you are! And I keep forgetting how much history you carry with you. Also I keep forgetting to remind myself how extraordinarily well you are dealing with the whole ‘human/demon’ thing… but most of all, I keep forgetting to tell you how much I love you… And I *really* do.” He rubbed the back of Spike’s hand gently with his thumb, “I really, honestly do… William Aurelius… I love you.”

Spike stared for a moment into the almost teary chocolate colored eye, then sniffed hard, cocked his head a little and let his now brunette locks that had fallen loose from their tie, cover one of his *green* eyes, and smiled back at the sincere gent who had restored him, “Yeah well that kind of makes two of us mate.”

He kissed the back of Xander’s hand then released them and grabbed his glass of Cognac, “So come on… Drink up, cause I reckon there’s a spa back at the hotel’s got our name on it. And tomorrow gotta book us some tickets to Paris.”  
Xander looked a little perplexed at the last statement, “Paris?”

“Gonna find Dru and sort this mess once and for all.”

“How will we find her… I mean, Paris is huge and even if we do…”

“Trust me Pet, still got the demon remember? Hers will call to mine and can’t be too hard from there.”

Xander frowned and stared into his half finished coffee, then added with a further measure of concern, ”But you’re human now S..William, what if she decides to eat you… or me?”

“Dru’s may be a little addled in the noggin but not to the point of that. She always sees things, and I reckon she wouldn’t have come away from her Chaos squeeze…” at that point in the quiet conversation, Xander could have sworn that Spike almost spat on the floor, then looked up with begging eyes and in a near whisper said, “Just want to keep her *and you* safe.”

Xander simply nodded. Drinks were finished, the bill paid by Spike and the adjourned to the hotel where Spike immediately went online, booked the tickets to Paris and hand wrote a thank you to Jean-Paul in anticipation of their departure around lunchtime the next day. He had intended they would stay for a few more days, but getting to Dru *before* she ate too many of the Paris inhabitants and drew attention to herself was of utmost importance. Anyway, if all went well, he knew they would be back to Geneva… often.  
………………

Sarah was desperate, particularly as she discovered via the coven, that Xander had gone ‘abroad with a friend’ for a two week holiday. The details were vague at best, nevertheless she rang the Wolfram and Hart offices in London, Paris, Rome and Berlin, in the hope their ‘tendrils’ might track down something – even if it was only to do with ‘the friend’ who had obviously distracted Mr Harris from the task of carving the statue for the company.

A day later she was presented with a CTV image of Xander and an unknown dark headed male entering Heathrow’s British Airway’s Courtesy Lounge. The picture was entirely unhelpful regards identifying the dark haired ‘friend’ but from other information, they were travelling business class to Switzerland.

She was in the process of typing furiously to report her findings to Lilah when her phone ‘pinged’ twice in quick succession indicating text messages. 

“Schweiz - Subject of interest- location of stay not found. Reason for visit – unknown.”

And the second, “Schweiz - Subject of interest, on the move to Paris. Will track. ‘Friend’ still unknown.”

For Sarah it was something, and somewhat of a relief.

Lilah had been gripping the beautifully constructed red Oregon pine table hard enough to make splinters as the phone went off in her meeting with the ‘stupid girl’ but was happy enough with the results to smile (something that did not reach her eyes) as her underling Sarah promised tracking Mr Harris via their Paris office. Lilah could not put a finger on it, but there was something about the recently maimed sculptor that did not ‘add up’. 

She knew his Hellmouth background and had done the research regarding various possessions, liaisons, and long time assistance to the Sunnydale slayer, then his time in Africa and move to the coven. And yet this man was somewhat of a mystery. What was his agenda? Why had he carved the image of Spike given that all her ‘intel’ had found that he hated vampires generally, and particularly William the Bloody? In the end she had little option but to decide that he was a ‘closet gay’(given that he had numerous failed female relationships) and that the representation was little more than a crush on a long dead vampire whom he had hosted in his apartment on two different occasions for an extended period of time.

But there was hope for him yet… and it seemed as though he had committed to carving the image of the illusive paramour of the same vampire – the ex partner (and useful tool of W&H) Drusilla. It was only a matter of time now. His injuries were real, and with a new squeeze there was leverage. 

She could wait, and wondered how they could push , just a little, using his new ‘friend’ (whoever he was) as the prompt.  
………………  
Their trip to Paris was a swift and delightful one. He and Spike had hardly been in the air twenty minutes before the seatbelt sign illuminated again to indicate their landing.

Upon arrival, they were ushered through customs swiftly. Spike had a (coven produced) European passport and Xander a permanent work visa for the European Union so the processing was very straight forward. 

They ensconced themselves in yet another extraordinary ‘William Aurelius’ owned boutique hotel, not too far from the Louvre. Once again the manager was part demon and the hotel well warded. It was a relief as both men were aware that Wolfram and Hart had an office in the city and would be tracking them if they could.

Exquisitely appointed, their room was, again, the picture of pure luxury with a small balcony opening onto the pretty Paris scene. Xander noted the heavy curtains and wondered for a moment before realizing that his ‘William’ had probably stayed there in his vampire years. Spike saw the object of his gaze and guessed the reason. He reached for then squeezed Xander’s good hand as they put down their luggage.

“Bought it in the sixties, Dru used to love Paris at night.”

Xander simply nodded and said a very quiet, “Oh.”

Spike frowned for a moment, “Look… If you don’t like the décor I can change it pronto, own the bloody place after all.”

Xander turned, kissed his partner and quickly added, “Don’t change a thing. I was just… well thinking I guess… Thinking not always of the good.”

“’S fine Pet. But you do know we are staying here, in this city, to find Dru, and she loved this hotel. Figured this was just the spot to wait then we start lookin’.”

Xander frowned, “And what if she doesn’t come here? How are we going to do that? I mean… And you’re human now and so am I! If she’s still killing then… what if she decides to…”

Just at that moment, the phone in the suite rang. Spike swiftly retrieved the handset and several “Hmmm, yes, alright”s occurred.

Xander looked curious, and worried all at once. Spike placed the phone back in its cradle and simply said, “Number one problem solved Pet. She’s downstairs.” 

 

 

Xander accompanied his beloved downstairs, stake in pocket, very aware that Spike was now human and might just be on the receiving end of a deadly bite, particularly as the vampire concerned was less than sane, on anyone’s levels.

Surprisingly however, he was witness to an extraordinary exchange and stood back, ever at the ready, to see two lovers of a hundred plus years, reacquaint.

As always Dru was swaying, “My Spike, the stars said you were gone twice… and Daddy is really gone. We are both sad for that.”

Spike merely nodded, unwilling to let the tears flow yet again, but Dru was persistent.

“Daddy loved you too in the end, the stars told me so. And then you were not you, but now are a real boy. And you have another in your life… heeeee” She twirled twice and then with preternatural speed, was against his throat. “I can smell you. You have a heart beat, but you are still my Spike. You might be his but are still mine. Oh that boy from the Hellmouth that stood against Daddy is no longer a boy, is he. I’ve seen it. And you sent for me.”

Spike was aware of Xander at his back and also the other patrons in the foyer, so licked Drusilla’s long dead jugular and whispered, “My sweet thing, let us take this upstairs.”

With a nod from Spike to the concierge, Drusilla swooned for a moment, then was happily ushered up to Xander and Spike’s suite.

The vampire seemed serene and unconcerned, until she entered their own temporary abode, at which point she struck. 

Xander was no match for preternatural speed as the female took his partner’s neck, but had a stake to be reckoned with and a motive, it was only Spike’s look and hand that waved him away that stopped him from driving the wood home.

Drusilla stopped after only three long drafts of Spike’s somewhat human blood, and backed into the middle of the room to stand looking more than a little puzzled.

“The stars told me of your soul, but it was not like Daddy’s. And I knew when you burned… but this, this is different. I… I can still feel your demon, Daddy’s essence. It sparkles and is full of *wonderful* darkness, but there is also… What have you done, my Spike? The stars are dark tonight and I cannot tell, but they led me to this place. What have you done?”

Spike was still recovering from the bite, but took the time to nod to Xander, the immediate threat was over, though his lover would remain on ‘stake standby’ if all went badly.

“Precious, Love of my unlife, we simply want to keep you safe. It is why I called to you. I am human, and demon now. And my partner in all things…” Spike reached for and found Xander’s willing hand pulling him close, “My partner and savior in all things, has it in his sights to save you too.”

Drusilla stood immediately and began to spin in the centre of their room.

“My Spike, my Spike! The stars told me you are happy, but now you have a problem and your partner needs something of me to fix this. I am sad for you and happy… but the universe talks and I must answer and it says you always watch for me. Daddy did too, but not now, not now.”

“Daddy can’t anymore, precious.”

“Ooooh, I know… now it is you and your boy that will keep me safe. The night flowers told me. The nasty Wolf, Ram and Hart want to play again, but not like last time, not like last time when my new Childe and we brought them to their end.” Dru began to sway again, rubbing her stomach, something that Xander found quite disturbing but still listened.

“Oh my Spike, they were *so* yummy, all the little piggies locked up in a room ready for slaughter… Hmmm” Dru’s focus seemed on a point near the ceiling and then she changed gears again, staring at Spike hard.

“But you are not mine anymore, my sweet, you belong to the boy, all light and sunshine. Yet you have a plan to save me from the wolves. That’s why the stars called me to your side. You and your darkness called.” 

“Just wanting to keep you safe pet, that’s all.”

“Heee, never a good boy, always have to have the dark. Is it time for tea? I left naughty Miss Edith at home, but we can still have tea.”

Xander gripped his homemade stake a little tighter, confused and worried for his lover.

Spike laughed and to Xander’s horror, offered up his wrist.

The vampire rushed forward before Xander could even move to stop her. Drusilla latched on and taking two long drafts before lifting and spitting some of the blood on the floor, wailing. “You and Daddy! You and Daddy! The spark is there, I can taste it!” She spat again.

“What shall I do my Spike? I need my Neschan, with you and he I can keep safe!”

Spike was at a loss then recognized the chaos demon’s name. Licking his painfully open and bleeding wrist, he simply muttered, “We need to get to the coven pet, or get them here. Have them ward you, so you can’t be found.”

“Oooh, tasty witches, Daddy liked nuns, I *like* witches. All spells and warm.”

“Nothing like that sweetness. We go to the old country, have you warded, then you’re on your way back to…” Spike bit back the bile in his throat, “your Neschan.”

“But your pretty boy wants a picture, the trees told me, he needs a picture”

“That he does, but we need to do this first, or Wolfram and Hart will have you.”

Drusilla pouted, then looked somewhat confused, as though the whole previous conversation had never occurred. “Why would the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart want me.”

“My darling Dru. Do you trust me?”

As though a switch had been hit, she smiled in a display of innocence Xander didn’t buy for a minute, “I chose you! In the ally and Daddy finished you and gave you to me. And we had *such* good times. You were mine, my champion, of course I trust you.” Then another switch of pace, “May we hunt now? My belly is so awfully empty.”

“After we are at the coven… then you can hunt.”

Xander had a cold feeling about the whole venture, but trusted Spike who nodded in his direction. They would leave Paris tonight, Drusilla in tow, and rejoin the coven.

It took only a matter of minutes for Xander to find the digital camera he had bought the previous day. While Spike continued to engage Dru, he took numerous photos of the rather amused mad vampire. She posed and swayed and seemed utterly fascinated by the ‘funny little pictures’ that eventuated, insisting on seeing them all, Spike playing along complimenting her on her wonderful dark hair and insisting that ‘the camera loves you’. It was enough.

Following the photo session, and convinced that the human (with demon) Spike would remain safe for a few minutes, Xander swiftly departed to finalize the bill for their suite using the credit card Spike had provided, in anticipation of leaving the following day. The sunlight would be a problem for Drusilla but she solved that by insisting that she be transported in “my box”. 

Apparently she had travelled in a temporary coffin which was now stowed somewhere, though extracting the information as to just where she had put it after her arrival in Paris was almost like talking to a magic eight ball! Finally it was established that said item was at the main railway station, so the easiest method of returning to England was by train it seemed.

Spike made the arrangements via phone via the concierge and all was set for a very early morning departure prior to sunup so they might safely place Drusilla in the dark and take the earliest train to London then on to the coven.

Xander packed with urgency, worried about the logistics of transporting the extra ‘luggage’, was still concerned at the idea of Drusilla coming back with them, and more than a little disturbed by Spike’s statement apparently giving permission for the vampire to hunt at or near the coven. 

He need not have been so concerned. A taxi at 4am took them directly to Paris central. Dru’s ‘box’ was located with ease – the vampire may have appeared addled but she still had the sense to stash said item behind a set of large long term lockers. The box was decorated inside for comfort and had an internal latch for ease of escape. Neschan was apparently dab hand at constructing wooden boxes and determined to keep his lover safe for this journey. A small carved note on the lid simply said, “With all my love, return soon. N”

Xander marveled at the ruse. Dru had been able to enter the country as a corpse (apparently eating one or two of the luggage handlers prior to being ‘unloaded’). Her coffin was then to be collected at the train station by a relative (a stroke of brilliance on Neschan’s part, Spike unwillingly admitted) After nightfall she then had the wherewithal to let herself out, place the box somewhere safe and track down ‘her Spike’ with apparent ease. Something that had Xander more than a little ‘wigged’.

The trip to England was an easy one – and customs even easier as an apparently effortlessly, teary Spike put on the waterworks for the rather stunned border security, explaining that he was merely taking his older sister to the family grave after he had been forced to pick up her remains from a flight in Paris, her sudden demise “all too early, all too early, and we…” 

The sympathetic customs officer noted the South American customs stickers and swiftly processed the couple, patting the bereft young man on the shoulder as the blond seemed to pat the temporary coffin with reverence. “She may have passed, son, but I’m sure she’ll know how much you cared.”

Xander was holding back his mirth with difficulty, unable to look at the innocent, tear tracked face of Spike while thinking “and the Oscar goes to…” Nevertheless, they were out, hailed a long taxi, loaded their ‘box’ and luggage in the back and were on their way to the coven.

Thanks to a couple of web savvy wiccans who had been forewarned, Lilah’s CCTV vision of the two she was so desperate to track was entirely absent. She knew they were heading back to the UK according to transport records, so annoyed with the lack of vision, contacted the Paris office of W&H but seemed to get nowhere as the ‘arrogant prick’ on the other end of the phone refused to speak ‘American’, then insulted her French abilities. She would have to put the pressure on Giles again. No doubt the two were headed back to the coven after their little ‘dirty long weekend’.

 

Part 31

The entry into the coven was low key. The extended taxi merely pulling up to Xander’s small abode just after midday and the luggage (including the ‘box’) being hauled from the vehicle and deposited in the now very cold cottage.

Spike swiftly removed the green contact lenses and his eyes were back to the azure blue Xander had come to love so dearly. “Hair might have to stay this color for a while pet, hope you don’t mind.”

Xander made a point of nodding and smiling back then immediately busied himself building a fire, and for temporary heat, plugged in a tiny space heater for instant relief, and wandered to the bedroom to turn on the electric blanket that was a permanent fixture. 

Spike, meanwhile fussed around the kitchen making tea, and checking the fridge for the blood he knew he had requested of the Mistress, warning that without it Drusilla would likely wake on sunset and prove a ‘bit of a challenge’. Fed well she would be far more in control. The Mistress had not disappointed.

Spike and Xander enjoyed their tea (Spike more so than his partner) then took the time to kiss Xander soundly, unpack their bags, before wandering up to the coven to announce their return and thank the Mistress for all the coven’s assistance. He returned to find Xander standing in the middle of their bedroom with a rather blank, ‘I’m too tired to think’ look on his face, so stripped him and led him to their now warmed bed. It was a relief to be home… but they had a vampire currently sleeping in a box to deal with as soon as darkness ensued.

Right on schedule, ten minutes after sunset, Drusilla’s travel box flung open and a vampire in full game face emerged. Spike was awake and up in seconds at the sound of the lid crashing against the wall and swiftly made his way past a growling Drusilla, grabbed a bag of blood from the fridge tipped it into a large soup mug and pushed it into the microwave. 

Drusilla was prowling behind him agitated. She sniffed his neck and hissed through her teeth, “Just a little taste of my Spikey, all warm and ready for me, all warm and full for mummy.” 

Spike held very still and seconds seemed like hours as he waited for the familiar ping indicating the blood was heated. He finally dragged the mug from the microwave and waved it under Drusilla’s nose before pushing it into her hands with a rather stifled, “This is for you my sweet.”

Drusilla curled up her lip in an aggressive expression then to Spike’s great relief brought the mug to her mouth and growled once more before downing the entire contents in one desperate act. 

Spike knew it would not be enough to satisfy her and used the time to fill another larger container with two bags this time, and set it to heat as quickly as he was able. Dru was more settled after the first drink but seemed a little confused by the smell of the blood. 

“My Spike?” Dru stood in the small central room in her human face, swaying a little.

“It’s alright pet, here have some more.” At which point Spike pushed the large container of what he knew was almost body temperature human blood into her hands for the second time. Drusilla fell into game face again and consumed it with just as much gusto as the first, then at last remained still, looking quizzically at Spike.

“Are we home now? Is Daddy here? You said we’d be going… ”

Spike held back his own emotions as he quietly approached her, took her hand and guided her to sitting on the small settee. “Daddy’s gone luv. You remember? It’s only us now and me not even… Dru are you OK to meet the coven members? They just want to help, then you can go back to Neschan, safe from the bloody awful W&H. We all want to keep you safe, pet.”

Spike held back the knowledge and suspicions of just what Wolfram and Hart wanted of her, but it seemed from her ranting in Paris that she probably already knew. Spike was the last to think she was too ‘dotty’ to know or plot, since time after time ‘her stars’ had kept them from harm (and in some cases led them to wild times of carnage and fun) for a hundred years before Sunnydale. And fine he did have to interpret and act, but that was no different from now. And now it was a matter of helping his former lover to stay out of the grips of an evil organization that only wished her harm.

Drusilla pouted for a moment, then seemed to change gears again and started to sway. Spike knew the signs. A hundred years of caring for the vampire had left him with a long legacy of understanding, so waited patiently for her to speak. 

She began in a sing song voice. ”They wanted mummy and then when she… and daddy too but he’s gone… he’s with the angels” She stopped for a moment and spat on the floor with disgust.” Where are the stars my Spike, Miss Edith told me to come to you and now they are fading.”

“Not fading Pet, just dimmed a little. Wards around, so just dimmed.”

“Miss Edith is calling. She misses me, my Spike. Nasty, nasty… we killed them all, Mummy and me but still they come.”

“I know Pet, I know. And after tonight you can go back and tell her yourself that you’re safe.”

Drusilla spun on the spot and stared intently at some point behind Spike. “Will you tie me up and hold me under the water?”

“Not tonight Luv... We have other things to do.”

She pouted, fingered the empty blood container she still held and gave a rather disgusted “Hmm”, then smiled, “We will have crumpets and tea after?”

“Definitely Pet. After we fix this… Crumpets and tea.”

And just as Spike was running out of ideas, Xander was up and in the room, scratching his bare belly absently and yawning, “Is it time?”

“No time like the present. Wanna give the Mistress a call? We need to do this and fast.”

Xander moved to the right of the room and grabbed the phone, fast dialed the Mistress and within what only seemed like moments, the coven’s strongest witches were at the door.

Spike distracted Drusilla away from the door by offering her more blood while a pentagram of colored salt was swiftly constructed on the floor of Xander’s small living room.

Spike led Dru to the middle of the salt pentagram and coaxed her to kneel. She gave a slight giggle as she lowered then locked eyes with Spike in an eerie moment of lucidity. 

“This is to be my salvation from the nastiest plot, and you are the Knight. I thank you my Spike. Your wounded soldier is yours and he did the same for you.”

“That he did Pet… that he did.”

“Can you hold my hand?”

Spike moved forward and kissed her on both cheeks. “Not right now Luv. Let’s just get this done and you back to your place in the dark. I’ll be here. OK?”

Drusilla pouted for a moment then looked directly at the wiccans. In game face and a low, demanding tone she simply said, “Let it be done.” 

Chanting started immediately, Drusilla swayed a little but did not move her feet. The magic around the vampiress rose. A red glow surrounded her for a moment then appeared to diffuse into her. She whimpered a little as it did then stood stock still as the magic found its place. 

Post spell was rather an anticlimax. A simple “It is done” from Mistress Rhiannon marked the wiccans’ swift exit and Spike offered his hand as Drusilla made to step out of the salt symbol. 

Apparently once again lucid, Drusilla spun on her heel once then placed a kiss on Spike’s cheek. “Mummy is pleased and now it’s time for your reward my Spike.” At which point she drew a sharp nail across her neck.

Xander was horrified and fascinated (and just a little jealous) as Spike’s demon decided to exert its influence, causing Spike to lunge forward and with slightly elongated incisors, latched on and sucked the rich blood of family with gusto. Drusilla hummed and smiled with unfocussed eyes for all but a minute before pushing him away.

“My Neschan and Miss Edith are waiting, my Spike.”

Spike simply nodded, Xander not failing to notice the rather glazed look, the slightly longer teeth and the blood around Spike’s lips. He could not help but wonder if blood drawn from him would cause the same look of awe. A question, or action, for another day. 

Spike turned to his lover, refocused and gave a sublime smile in Xander’s direction, whispering to him “’S family Pet, and … just… demon needed this. ‘S family.”

Xander nodded and smiled rather wanly back, wondering what exactly that meant as far as he and Spike’s future meant. But he had little opportunity to muse further realizing suddenly, to finish this, they had a vampire to ‘re-box’ and trip to Heathrow to make as soon as possible.

 

Part 32

It was a cold wet day as they delivered Drusilla to Heathrow. Once again Spike did his best impression of a bereaved relative paying to send his sister back to her ‘husband’ in Brazil for burial. The sensitive kiss to the temporary coffin and words of endearment was not lost on the attendant, who looked to Xander for assistance as Spike, very genuinely hugged the box a last time before being assured that the remains would be honored and dutifully delivered to their destination. 

Spike seemed in such a state of grief that the young woman at the airline counter offered that they be able to watch his dead ‘sister’ loaded safely on the plane. A customs official was swiftly summoned, and Xander led a genuinely upset Spike to a point beyond the usual admittance doors so they could watch the box loaded. 

It was done. And Spike knew it would be the very last time he saw his black beauty in the flesh.

The aging customs officer noted the state of near collapse as the young blond was supported and led away by his friend, and hoped he *never* had to experience the angst of saying such a goodbye to any of his own family.

Somewhere mid afternoon and back at the coven, Spike was maudlin and nothing Xander did seemed to lift his mood. He refused food or blood and was eventually coaxed to their shared bed, where Xander lay spooned behind him, petted and rubbed Spike’s stomach with his good hand until his lover fell into a light sleep. He had, in truth, expected the angst, but the chaste kiss and quiet ‘thank you’ prior to Spike’s losing consciousness was enough to reassure. Now he had a statue to carve.

He slipped out of the bedroom and made his way to the workshop. Matti was there working on his own latest creation – an eagle mid takeoff. Xander whistled and smiled his approval and the young man blushed profusely.

“I assume all went well then?”

“Like clockwork, although I’m a bit worried about William. He… he just needs some rest after the Oscar award winning performance at the airport.” Though Xander knew it was not so much a performance as a final goodbye to a Sire that he could never explain to the young wiccan. “Hey, I don’t want to interrupt your stuff, but I wonder if you can give me a hand with the chainsaw part of the carve in the next week or so? Just that it’s a bit hard wielding the thing with the lack of digits.”

“Hey of course, you good to pencil the lines, and me good to cut. So long as you think I can do it justice.”

“Judging by your latest works… Hell I should be your apprentice.” To which Matti stared for a moment, rubbed over a wing of his latest creation, then gave a blinding smile and simple “Thanks.”

There was a moment of silence between the two men before Matti ventured to a worried looking Xander, “I kind of knew William’s history, you know, Mistress let us all know, but kind of didn’t realize how much he really cares about, well you know… everyone really... and family.” 

“He’s one out of the box that’s for sure. Loves us, and loved her for a hundred plus years.”

“So is he OK? … I mean you said he is tired… but will he be OK?”

“Sp… William is a survivor and I have nothing to do now that’s more important. We do the sculpture and I’ll worry about him until I can make him OK.”

Matti looked hard at his mentor. “You love him so much, and he you. It will work out. So… where are the photos. Shouldn’t we get going on this thing?”  
………………………..  
In the next few weeks the rough lines were cut, the chisels pounded and pushed, and the image of Drusilla emerged.

Sarah visited and was thrilled to report progress to Lilah, though the undead lawyer insisted on seeing the results for herself. A tense visit to the coven workshop ensued. Made worse by the fact that Spike (aka William) needed to hide in Xander's and his permanent abode for fear of discovery, condemned to watch from the window as the limousine delivered the ‘bitch’ to the front door of the coven. 

The Mistress invited her for tea then led the woman to the workshop. Lilah grinned manically, congratulated the sculptor, and was consequently utterly convinced that a spell at Wolfram and Hart would see the resurrection of the paramour of William the Bloody and ingratiate her to the Senior Partners once more, though less than impressed by Sarah’s performance as ‘insider’.

She enquired politely regards Xander’s recent sojourn to Switzerland and France with a ‘friend’, hoping a name might be forthcoming, but was dissatisfied with the simple, “Just needed a break so took the opportunity when it arose. Hand was still painful.”

“Hmm, and your ‘friend’ is he a fellow sculptor?”

Xander was immediately on the defensive, but schooled his visage and stated plainly, and truthfully, “No. He’s an investor, had business in Europe and offered to take me as his guest, on a study tour as it were.”

The last comment was plausible enough, yet still Lilah wondered – particularly as the CTV coverage had been intermittently ‘down’. She blamed the various governing bodies of the cities involved; Sarah’s inability to keep tabs on the man; and W&H’s foreign offices’ incompetence for the lack of clear footage.

Though apparently the sculpture was on the way, she was still keen for long term leverage with this ex Hellmouth man who had run with the Slayer. She quickly resolved to use the elderly ex-watcher one more time before finding him a ‘new career’ somewhere in the bowels of the W&H London office, even if it meant not entirely human, or truly alive anymore. 

She was also happy to make a brief phone call to the Moscow office regards an ‘item’ to be delivered on Tuesday of the following week. Sarah had to go. She would find another ‘minion’ to do her bidding at the coven.

One of their more unsavory demon clients, Maximillian was a black market consortium leader, a demon and warlock, who had a particular penchant for female humans. The ‘stupid girl friday’, Sarah, would be seen as a fine ‘gift’ from W&H. It would be an easy matter of enticing her onto the private company jet on the premise of a new assignment, alter her magic en route to bind her to the dictates of Maximillian’s will, after which she would be taken to Maximillian’s private compound. There was no doubt in Lilah’s mind that the girl would end up as one of the many ‘willing’ whores in the cartel run demon brothel, and pose no more embarrassment or frustration to Lilah. She was also confident that the coven would accept Sarah’s emailed explanation for her sudden move to the continent (a new job opportunity with the Watchers’), and would not miss her. Even Lilah could sense it was apparent the stupid girl had caused some sort of tension and mistrust.

A quick call to Wolfram and Hart and her PA ensured all was in place and ten minutes later, after confirmation, she followed it with a phone call to Sarah to ‘invite’ her to take on a special assignment in Russia starting immediately via their Moscow office. Sarah jumped at the offer as it meant *not* working directly for Lilah any more which was a relief. 

As she was driven back to London in the limousine, the Wolfram and Hart pariah had it planned. She would keep the ‘Drusilla project’ within her direct control and let the Senior Partners know of the progress at various stages in the next month or two. She would have the old watcher keep tabs on the sculptor. Hopefully Giles would eventually extract information regards his ‘friend’, and be there when they were finally ready to draw the vampire’s essence to the statue post delivery. 

She made contact with the ex-watcher as she drove back to the London office, the genuine promise of the usual reprisals if he refused, and the hollow one of rewards for the Watchers were he successful. She also mentioned that Sarah had ‘moved on to bigger things’ and demanded that Giles agree to visit the coven sculptor weekly to check the progress of her sculpture (and try to garner information on the mystery ‘friend’ for future leverage).  
.

 

Giles took the call, however, he had made his own decisions as terms of his visit were dictated. After being a ‘double agent’ as it were, for a time, he had been threatened in no uncertain terms and of late seriously. In fact it was clear that his days were definitely numbered, and his resolve firmed. He had to make a stand. Regardless of past few months where his travel expenses had been covered plus some, there was a matter of Lilah’s never fulfilled promises of rich rewards for the Watchers’ Council were he and Sarah to do her bidding. 

As he made a quick call to the coven to let them know of his arrival in around two hours he made a pivotal decision. This was to do with old allegiances – i.e. Xander and the coven wiccans – and self respect, so if a sacrifice was to be made, he would rather it be for the side of good and Gaia.

He had seen too much death and at the time of his agreement with the Senior Partners it had seemed a fair exchange - a little intelligence work in exchange for ‘anonymous’ donations to the Watchers’ Council to assist the Slayers in need – a deal with the devil – literally. Now he was too tired of the ‘games’, dismayed by the implied threats to old friends and the coven, and simply *could* not continue to betray all he cared about, people and his own principles. Nor could he live in constant abject fear, beholden to the biddings of an organization that, at the beginning, had promised rewards for the Watchers’ Council and protection for those he cared for. None of which had been forthcoming. 

Not bothering with much in the way of clothes, he packed an overnight bag, threw it in the car and began to drive. He resolved to speak directly to the Mistress of the coven, if possible with Willow, and most certainly with Xander tonight and reveal all, unsure of their reaction of course and began to compose the speech in his mind as he navigated the freeway, then the back roads. And around twenty minutes from the coven, he had a moment of utter clarity. 

He would beg their forgiveness and request that they might alter his form for all time, thus taking him from the Council’s, and Wolfram and Hart’s employ permanently, but remain at the coven. He rang forward to let the Mistress know of his imminent arrival, left a rather vague message on the coven answering machine. He then began to try to recall the necessary spell. He rather fancied the option of a barn owl as his new form and confidently added the appropriate Latin terms to the chant for later use. 

Giles was not confident that the coven would help, but hoped. It was change and hide, or die slowly in fashion only Wolfram and Hart might implement. He was no fool and of the latter he was certain. 

Contemplating the implications of a possible change in form, and in the last few minutes of his drive to the coven, Giles became strangely calm regarding his decision and mused that perhaps the ladies (and gents) of the coven would not mind having an extra ‘hand’ on deck to keep down the local mouse/rat population. The mere thought of consuming the same made him somewhat nauseous, but surmised that natural instinct would no doubt take care of that.

 

Part 33

Giles parked the car in front of the main coven building, took off his glasses and polished them hard in nervous manner, then swung the string attached to the ancient brass doorbell. It seemed to ring inordinately loud, but resulted in a rather shy young wiccan ushering him into the Mistress’s study.

He stood at the door politely for a moment before Rhiannon indicated a seat opposite her desk. “Please Mr Giles, close the door and take a seat.” 

The conversation with the Mistress Rhiannon was initially very strained, but swiftly became a confession of his ‘sins’ of sorts as he began to explain his recent dealings with Wolfram and Hart, Sarah, the Council, and all that went between, stressing his initial motivations.

The Mistress sat quietly listening, and observing the older man seeking any measure of deceit. With the room warded and (as even Giles felt) the truth spell in place, there were a few simple questions as his monologue ended.

“We had some wind of your movements, and indeed, your ‘other’ employer. I can see that you were seduced by the dark powers, and not for the first time… of that I am confident.” 

Giles pulled his glasses off and polished them profusely and while looking down at the spectacles in his hand said quietly, “Indeed. But I did not wish nor anticipate harm to come from my actions, and should have been more discerning, particularly given my age and experience.”

“It also seems you have endangered some of your friends who are members of our coven Mr Giles. Why come to us now? Is it absolution you seek? If that is the case then Gaia or the Powers are a better solace and in appealing, you will need to be forthcoming with pure motive.”

Giles felt strangely like he was back explaining to Buffy why he had followed Council orders and had her threatened. “I will do so of course. But I have two other requests.”

“And those would be?”

“I wish to speak to Xander and if possible convey the same to Mistress Willow explaining my… interest in Xander’s activities of late. I wish to explain my recent associations and actions… and request… his forgiveness before… Mistress, I am here to beg of you to assist in my physical change for all time so I might serve the coven in a different guise, without risk to anyone. 

“I have the spell but cannot do it without a magical boost. One that I know will probably need to be made in a different location for safety sake. The spell will mean I live out my life as barn owl, at your coven if you so permit, with no chance of return to humanity and so I may never be *used* again by the powers of darkness.” Giles looked at the Mistress, begging her to understand, “ I cannot countenance continuing as I am, and the only other option is, I am sad to admit, oblivion.”

The Mistress stared into the aging Watcher’s eyes for a time, noted the blue glow overhead indicating his truth and resolve then quietly answered, “Until you have made your peace with the Universe in all its guises, we cannot act. I will arrange for you to stay at a safe house in the village near here where you may make your peace with Gaia and the Powers. But as you have surmised, we cannot invoke such a spell on coven grounds. It would bring attention, so must be in a secure and warded environment as provided by the place I am about to suggest. 

“There is a small natural forest twenty kilometers or so south of here with a sanctified copse. At midnight tonight or at least within the darkness of the night, and should you have satisfied Gaia and the Powers as required, we will invoke the spell as suggested, though I would ask that you provide the text of the spell for review prior to that time. As Mistress of this coven, I also agree to your request that you may have some time with Xander but only on the grounds that penance to the necessary powers be accepted. Sadly though, Willow is currently away attending another coven. You must also note - if penance is delayed and the spell invoked late, then I am sad to say, any contact with Xander or Willow will only *after* the spell, as neither can be involved at the copse.”

It was the first time Giles felt near panicked since speaking to Lilah and making his final decision. 

He fell to his knees in front of the aged wiccan, “Mistress, if the latter is the case then they will never know my reasons or feelings for them! I participated in this whole debacle for a reason I thought valid yet now know, in a sense particularly betrayed Xander – a boy I considered as the son I never had… *Please* if penance is allowed/accepted then I will change and if not, will accept death upon the invocation of the spell as I know that will be the outcome. Mistress, if as you suggest, there may be no time, *at least* permit me to provide a message of regret regarding my associations and actions of late to Xander.”

The Mistress stood with grace, stroked the upset older man’s shoulders and lowered head, gently raised him back onto his chair then said in almost a whisper, “After you make your peace as required, I will know. If all is well then a final visit to Xander in your current form will be accepted this afternoon. I will speak to Xander this morning of the arrangements and your reasons prior to any contact as he will need to be reassured of your truth and wishes. We at the coven are clear that he has reasons to fear the recent actions of the Wolf, Ram and Hart and your involvement. He still has need for assistance and protection by the coven.” Rhiannon placed two pieces of exquisite parchment and a fountain pen in front of Giles and he gave a rather puzzled and tearful look to her.

“Assuming all is well after your change, I will still be able to fully commune with your form and convey your thoughts as needed. So… and for expediency and no ‘paper trail’… write down the spell for us to examine, and on the other a letter to a trusted member of your Watchers’ Council warning them of the Wolfram and Hart connections, also indicate that by the time they receive the letter by mail you will have sacrificed your human life as a direct consequence of your actions. This will not be a lie. Your car will be found just south of the QEII Bridge on the Thames, London – we will see to that - and your human body will sadly, never be found.” 

Giles looked up at the last statement, “How stupid of me! In my panic, I hadn’t considered… My Will indicates all I have passes to the Council upon my death, Jenkins knew my wishes.”

“Then it is agreed. I will make the arrangements and you must go and make your appeals.” The Mistress wrote the address of the safe house and handed it to Giles. “This is the location of the house. If all goes well, you will see Xander this afternoon and we will invoke the spell at midnight tonight.”

Giles swiftly wrote out the spell, hoping it would be all in order, then completed the letter to the Watchers’ Council. He then stood, thanked the Mistress and took his leave.  
………………………..

The Mistress immediately departed for the workshop, only to find that Xander had had a late start and was only just beginning to hand sand the new sculpture. He paused and when the Mistress looking pointedly at Matti who left immediately, Xander came to a very worried stop.

It was just the moment Spike chose to enter the workspace with two cups of tea in hand and noted the tension and his lover’s raised heart rate (demon hearing still a plus). “Trouble at mill??”

The Mistress turn to Spike with a wan smile, then back to Xander, “I have news... it concerns Giles.”

Xander’s breath hitched for a moment, but it was Spike who answered. He had observed the car earlier, “OK… What’s the old traitorous fool plannin’ to do to us now - he and his she bitch master, Lilah?!”

The Mistress staid him with a stern look, “William, please. He is… he wants to meet with Xander… AND! before you protest, his motives are pure, and his intentions, though extreme, are the same.”

Her following frank and succinct explanation saw Spike racing to his lover’s side and taking him in a tight hug as the larger brunette’s legs almost gave out.

There was a long silence following the Mistress’ speech. Then a hitched breath from Xander and soft, “How?... And if? But if not? Mistress he still intends to take his own human life? But that…”

“My dear Xander, if all goes well he will be in our presence for many years to come - changed admittedly, but here. And before the change, should his penance be accepted in the time we need, he wishes to speak with you human to human… for the last time. My only reason for coming to you this morning is to ask if you consent to such a meeting.”   
………………………….  
The trip to the village was simple, the admittance to the safe house eased by the Mistress’s phone call in advance and Giles ushered to the small but pretty room of the B&B. The hostess was polite but seemed to give a knowing smile as Giles deposited his travel bag inside the door and accepted the key. 

He had the foresight to open the window of his small room, stripped his clothes and knelt in the middle the room. He knelt in the center of the room and began to chant in ancient Sumerian as the Mistress had suggested, a plea for forgiveness and acceptance, and a promise of his service, he then repeated it in Latin and Celtic, then Norse for good measure. 

There was a white flash then a swirl of energy and Giles was driven to fall and brace on all fours, still repeating the chants. The pressure on his chest began to make it difficult to breathe and his left arm ache, so he feared the worst. He fell to his side, curled into a fetal position and in the last moments he remained conscious thought, if he were to die of a heart attack in this process, almost with relief, then so be it. The coven would still be safe.

It seemed a strange dream with flashes of his past, good and bad, old and recent, but one that seemed to eventually bring warmth. He awoke shivering, not with cold but with emotion and a clear idea of the blessing he had been given and what he next needed to do. He rolled to his previous kneeling position and then crawled to the single bed in the room, eased himself up and collapsed to rest for a time. 

The Mistress felt the jolt around luncheon time at the coven and knew Giles had done as promised, sending her own blessing to add to the white energy and hoping he would be well enough to continue with his decision. A very shaky Giles rang the coven

It was late afternoon when a very shaky Giles stumbled from his car and once again rang the coven’s front door bell. This time he was met by the Mistress herself. 

“I felt it and it is so. We shall continue the transformation tonight. You will leave your car and belongings here for disposal anon. Matti will transport you to the copse tonight in one of our vehicles. Your letter to the Watchers will be sent tonight and car deposited as promised on the morrow.”

As she took his arm, leading (or more supporting him) as he struggled down the path as an invalid might, toward Xander’s workshop, Rhiannon spoke softly, “Xander has been briefed and has agreed to your visit. I will reassure him of your resolve and the forgiveness you have been granted. You have but an hour or so, then I would advise he return you to the coven to eat and have rest. You will need all your strength tonight.”

…………………………..

Xander was alerted to the progress of the two visitors by Spike who was sitting on a stool in the workshop reading. The human/vampire made a quick exit dragging Matti with him, growling “This one’s private.” 

Matti was about to protest as he was pulled through the front door of Xander’s abode, but was promptly pulled toward the kitchen, handed a cold beer and stilled by the words, “Let’s just ride this one out yeah? For Xan.”

It was only two in the afternoon, but they clinked bottles in a rather mute toast to what might come, and settled in silence on the couch. 

The conversation between Giles and Xander was a private one, and though Spike could feel the emotions through their link, found himself choosing to focus on some inane television show for the ensuing hour, reluctantly conveying only the minimum of the past history of the two to his current beer buddy, the ‘Cliff notes’ would suffice.

Spike knew the moment it was over and sent as much love as he could manifest as Xander slowly walked the older man back toward the coven. Matti left in the direction of the workshop only a few minutes later, he had a sculpture to oil.

Later that evening Spike held still rather distraught lover who had worked a little too hard. He had prepared a risotto dinner, followed by a comfort exchange (only) of blood. He then took Xander’s hand and pulled him to their shared bed, took the rather strung out man by mouth, and as they both lay together voiced the possibly positive implications of the drastic decision that was not theirs to make, nor one the Mistress would let them participate in.

…………….

After Matti stopped the four wheel drive and let the now nude (but for a small towel) Watcher out, Giles approached the copse cautiously. 

It appeared for all purposes to be utterly silent and devoid of life. Still, Giles made his way independently and with resolve to the centre of the circle of small oak branches as instructed. 

This was to be a spell to be invoked by Giles himself, apparently with the boost provided by the attending wiccans from the coven (and later he was to learn… remotely by his dear Willow ‘and friend’). It was ten minutes of kneeling, he knew as his wrist watch lay outside the circle and continued to keep time.

The chanting by all coven wiccans involved began on the mark of midnight, Greenwich time. Rupert Giles barely finished the last sentence of his invocation before convinced all had gone awry.

He gasped for air that seemed not to be forthcoming, then attempted grab at his chest in the next move but his arms seemed unwilling to move. Next his back arched almost to the point of breaking, tail bones attempting to make themselves known, and every internal organ became agony incarnate. 

He passed out for the second time that day, leaving him in blissful unconsciousness for the ultimate changes.

Bones began to shatter and alter their makeup; his external shape changed with uncanny speed; and after all was done, his size suddenly reduced according to Gaia and the dictates of his new form.

He regained consciousness around an hour later with the horrible thought that it may have all been for nothing. 

Saddened but resigned as he wondered if he was in purgatory, he was still rather disorientated. All seemed so large and foreign. Then he stopped, reassessed, and wondered. Then with awe, began to move.

There was a moment of sheer panic as he attempted to stand as legs now articulated differently and supported a different body. When he attempted to brace himself and understand, the lack of hands, indeed arms caused a definite flurry of feathers… and as a consequence, he fell painfully onto forehead that now included bumping his beak(!) in the process.

It took Giles the next hour or so to really come to terms with the change. 

Experimenting with his new appendages; trying to connect with the instinct of the body he now inhabited; and trying to contemplate the rather thrilling and terrifying concept of *flying*. As he stretched and tested silent wings (though still did not try to take off), he wondered belatedly if a hedgehog might not have been a better option as choice of wild fauna for his change!

Despite his trepidation, in the end he gave in to instinct, perched carefully on a fallen log in the clearing on the outskirts of the copse, flapped once or twice, then silently launched himself into the night - his destination, the coven. 

His human consciousness was still present, but just as he might have hoped, his form was natural, and magical signature rather than Watcher, now that of at most, a mage’s pet owl. And his physical appearance, ironically looked like he *still* wore glasses though night vision would argue otherwise.

To his protagonists at Wolfram and Hart, and all others he had known, Rupert Giles was no more. In his stead, however, as the members of his inner circle knew, was something he had so recently begged for - a form that still held his memories and hopes; his loyalties and determination; and a renewed commitment to Gaia as he was now, truly, one of her night creatures.

……………………

Lilah was both livid and somewhat relieved that the old Watcher had apparently dispatched himself (saving her the effort). Although she was annoyed he had not delivered some sort of final weekly report on the sculpture. In the end, she decided to cut her losses. 

His car had been found. Her sources informed her of the suicide/Will note to the Watchers’ Council, and she resolved recruit more ‘malleable’ and committed subjects in future. Her solace being that the sculpture of Drusilla was apparently almost completed. Once the transfer of the essence occurred she would reap a rich reward.

……………………….. 

Giles preferred the hayshed compelled to find a perch just pre dawn. It was warm and the smells fresh. From there he could hear Xander’s work shed in action. It was a little noisy at times, but he enjoyed listening to the apparent happy camaraderie between Xander and all who worked there on and off, his new sleep patterns dictated he snooze during the day.

…………………………….

A week or so after Giles’ change, Xander still required a special reassurance from the Mistress and Willow that there was ‘no going back’ to the Council or W&H, so Xander decided to introduce the newly made owl to the love of his life, William… aka Spike. 

The two had been told by the Mistress that this was Giles’ new abode of choice so they chose a early evening time to visit, and Giles was still waking up properly, but nearly fell off his daytime perch high in the rear hay shed next to Xander’s workshop as the two entered. 

The visage may not have been Billy Idol white hair or vampire pale, but the face and physique was unmistakable. 

Spike was standing hand in hand with Xander in full sunshine at the door of the workshop and stared up smiling to the newly made raptor before Xander held up his thick leather, work gloved arm. It was an invitation, and landing place.

He waited for a rather stunned Giles to take the hint before he swooped silently, grabbed the leather with sharp talons and settled. As soon as he did, both men gently stroked the soft feathers in a form of welcome. Xander smiled sadly at the bird but it was Spike who brightened the moment and spoke first, Giles not failing to notice that Xander’s ‘free’ hand was firmly placed on the small of Spike’s back

“So… guess we’re all a little changed hey Watcher. But can’t all be bad… I’ve got the boy and the sun.. and figure you’ll find the dark familiar. Isn’t all that bad is it, and hunting? Me? Can’t properly sort that anymore - so envy you that one. Wanted you to know though, Pet, it comes winter? Xan and I have some high rafters and a nice fire… and I could use some company when our famous sculptor here works his 24/7. Plenty of readin’ matter and there’s a telly.”

The owl hooted rather sadly, dropped his head and rubbed his beak over the gloved hand of the kind sculptor and previous Scoobie, then made a point of touching his feathered forehead to Spike’s unshielded offered one. Spike was rather emotional at that but bent close to the new raptor and continued, “C’mon, you’ll be fine. Keep connected with those Watcher memories, and the Ripper – know the Mistress reckons they’ll come in right handy.”

Strangely the reassurance was missed by a rather emotional Xander, but Giles cocked his head pointedly and stared at Spike, apparently looking for the truth of the statements. Satisfied in the truth, he then took off from his temporary human perch without warning and flew from the barn and up into the night.

 

Part 34

Giles was strangely affected by Spike’s words. His human memories, new instincts and magical history warred for a time as he flew silently across the coven’s territory… His territory now.

In truth, he was thrown by Spike’s words, his understanding and acceptance. But how could that be?

As he flew circles over the land he contemplated the meeting. How was it that Spike was back? Why had Xander referred to him as William? And why had he detected a joining of essences? The human was the visage of an old foe, still had the signature of a vampire, yet there seemed more. He somehow instinctively knew there was a soul firmly in place, and a pure heart in both men, yet how was it that Spike was back? He should have known in his human form that it was so?

His new form insisted he listen to instinct, “Just accept.” And suddenly realized that what Spike had conveyed, what the vampire now human always lived (and died) by seemed to fit exactly that. It was a mantra that his avian mind seemed to infuse into every questioning thought, and on his fifth lap of his, the coven’s, territory, he finally appreciated the true gift he had been granted. His natural owl instincts simply accepted with no question, his current form demanded he feed, and all other questions could and would be answered by the Mistress on another day.

He dismissed all human concerns, focused on the task in hand and dove skillfully on a small rat as it scampered for cover across the outer edge of the southern field. Talons caught it with ease and his beak finished the small rodent’s life, and despite his human worry regards eating such a creature, his current form had no such qualms. It would not be the first kill for the night, and he accepted his new reality fully as all thoughts other than hunt were subsumed by his form. 

………………………. 

The sculpture of Drusilla was almost complete and Xander was meticulously fine sanding the long fingers of the right hand as Lilah waltzed into the workshop with her typical smile that never really did meet her eyes.   
Matti tensed as Lilah swept into the workshop three weeks out from the final delivery date. He quickly covered his own new work, a small statue of a female. It was something Xander had not seen him try before, though had smiled at his protégé as the new piece was started. It was a new direction for the boy and not to be discouraged. Unbeknownst to him, Matti and William understood its real purpose. 

She leered menacingly then waved in two unfamiliar men. 

“I have brought a couple of photographers with me to document your work. Now all you need to do is pose by it and smile.”

Xander instantly knew something was afoot. “I make no apologies as to the following. I *never* have my photo taken with an unfinished piece. So if you don’t mind I will ask the Mistress to direct your camera friends go take pictures of more pretentious artists and let me get on with my work.”

Lilah was incensed. 

She had figured on getting photo of the insipid, crippled, ex- Scoobie sculptor to add the icing on the cake to her gift to the Senior Partners would be a masterstroke. She had already arranged for the Wolfram and Hart mages to be on standby, the intention to tie his life to the sculpture via the photo using dark magic. As the spell calling Drusilla’s essence to the piece, Xander would be compelled to come to his carving at once and be powerless to leave. It would seal his fate for all time, essentially he would be a thrall, beholden to do the company’s bidding, thereby ensure Wolfram and Hart a steady supply of demon sculptures to ‘play with’, and possibly give her ammunition to manipulate the coven and the Watcher’s Council, since they both valued him apparently.

No matter, the Senior Partners knew nothing of her plan, and there would be other opportunities to please them post the Drusilla gift.

Giles understood the plans Lilah had for the statue and had conveyed the same to the Mistress in his regular evening visit to her open office window as soon as he could post his change. He was stunned that there was no surprise at his revelation and informed of the coven’s part in protecting the vampiress. 

 

Over the ensuing two weeks post his change, Giles had come to learn the history of Spike’s return to the realm of the ‘living’ and marveled at the extent to which they had all ‘played’ Lilah (and he and Sarah for that matter) and the coven and Xander’s ability to ‘William’s’ identity, and his whereabouts. In a sense the ex-Watcher was very grateful he had been left clueless as to the same. He was also stunned to learn that William was both vampire and human melded, and that he and Xander were mated partners in both human and demon sense. The realization that Xander’s hand was not merely a woodworking accident made the pairing even more poignant. 

Giles had spent a few mornings after learning the truth ‘hoo’ing himself to sleep before he requested that the Mistress convey his regrets and congratulations to ‘William’ on his behalf.

Giles also now understood the utter impossibility of Drusilla’s essence ever being drawn to the statue or her skills of death and mayhem used by the Senior Partners again. Mulling over the information during his daytime on and off again snooze in the rafters, he came up with the perfect solution - an effigy of Lilah. 

As she was already technically dead so the spell that was meant for Drusilla should have the same effect on Lilah’s essence should her effigy be placed in the centre of a pentagram close to the casting of the spell. No doubt any building being used for a strong spell would be warded, but if Xander or Matti could accompany the delivery ostensibly to ensure the safe installation of the Drusilla sculpture, there was no reason they could not also appropriately place the smaller piece somewhere in the building. Giles had passed on his thoughts to the Mistress the following evening.

With initial prompting from none other than their new resident owl, the Mistress had conveyed the message from Giles to William. The sculpture had to be accurate and prompt and images of Lilah from the Wolfram and Hart website, along with clandestine photos were taken with Spike’s newest acquisition – a lovely digital SLR Pentax® camera – providing the remaining current images needed. 

So Matti worked on the carving, Spike continued to provide him with as many photos of the she-bitch he could find, and they both tried to decide when to tell Xander, and more importantly who it would be that ensured its placement on the ‘big day’.

Matti’s task was not a work of passion, but rather one with a practicality and hope all would go as planned. He was focused and diligent.

…………………………..  
Since his return to human/vampire status, Spike/William had genuinely needed a purpose and a nice regular schedule. To Xander’s apparent amusement, his lover did still tend to keep semi-vampire hours, snuggling (and sometimes more) early morning prior to Xander getting up, inevitably sprawling out, starfish style, as soon as the ‘other’ side of the bed was vacated and return to slumber. Usually he rose (most days in more ways than one) just before lunchtime and would be cooking (or at least preparing something) as his lover came home for his midday meal.

Three afternoons a week were spent up at the main coven learning, though to the Mistress’s delight, more often of late assisting with magical studies. Spike/William was not only a quick study, he had also been a scholar with a penchant for languages – both ancient and modern, and had a century and a half (plus) of knowledge of magic. And to the Mistress’s joy, in addition, was more than happy to assist with the Tai Chi lessons post theory periods. 

Now, on the few days he did not attend the coven central, he had taken to heading for the barn to entice the old Watcher from his perch with a short ‘So… C’mon!’. 

What followed was a flurry of feathers, a now elegant landing on an outstretched arm, and silent wander to Xander and Spike’s shared abode. There Giles would be encouraged to alight onto the computer table, be fed a handful or two raw meat, then rest (eyes closed) while Spike sorted out his investment matters. Inevitably, after an hour or two, he would be lifted by gentle hands, placed on the couch by Spike and read to from some classic novel or play. 

For Spike it was company, for Giles a revelation and joy. The ‘creature’ Giles had so easily written off when he was Watcher was indeed both scholar and gentleman… and now counted also as dear friend. He conveyed as much to the Mistress and had bobbed his head many times the day following, as Spike leveled blindingly brilliant eyes at the bird and thanked him for the compliment, and their new friendship.  
…………………………..  
In the last week before delivering Xander worked on Drusilla’s visage with what seemed like obsessive focus, his injured hand still causing pain when certain actions were undertaken. Spike had taken to massaging the injured appendage of an evening, lovingly reprimanding the sculptor for working too hard and hurting (again), but inevitably, after a Spike made meal, it would end in a massage of other parts of his anatomy. Sometimes for comfort, and others, for what happened next. Either way, for Xander it was always perfect and apparent through their link, it was also the same for Spike. Whether they were making love or merely spooning and snuggling seemed to make no difference. It seemed right.

Now all they needed was to be rid of their main threat. 

Matti’s sculpture was completed and had a final oiling (by Spike) on the same day as Xander’s Drusilla. 

Matti had always covered it with a burlap throw, so as it was revealed, the older man was stunned by the accuracy and beauty of his protégé’s piece. And more particularly disturbed that he been too preoccupied to notice the development of the same.

“ Wow!! Matti… this is…” 

“On the Mistress’s instructions according to the owl Giles advice. William and I kept it from you so there was no risk to you… And I’m not really sure? William can fill you in.” His lover duly did.

Xander stumbled back a little, bracing himself against the workshop bench with his marred hand, and after what seemed like minutes, simply stated, “S#%t. It’s a risk, but I guess it’s worth it.” He looked to William then back to Matti.

Matti stepped forward, though did look to the ground and had the temerity to look contrite and told the absolute truth, “I… we were merely trying to… I don’t know… We didn’t tell you in case Lilah had mystiques or something. But Mistress thinks that we can fix things, you know, the balance, for all time.” 

The long straight, black locks fell over the young man’s face, his now worried green eyes eventually looking up at a one eyed sculptor with respect and begging forgiveness for the apparent crime of concealment. It left Xander almost breathless as he scanned between his apprentice, his lover and the magnificent piece. 

Matti’s voice dropped to a near whisper, “Do… do you think it looks OK?”

Xander walked around the small piece and admired, and was just about to say something when a sweet baritone voice he knew so well intoned, “It’s bloody brilliant mate, and you know it. The whole thing is brilliant…” 

Xander was shaking his head in disbelief, “Matti, Wil, and Giles? Wow.” 

Almost on cue and most out of character, a barn owl swooped into the workshop in the middle of the conversation and landing without effort, momentarily on Drusilla’s finished statue. He bobbed his head several times, then took off to fly a couple of meters to an adjoining workbench conscious of not to injuring the sculpture with his talons before he truly settled. He knew from his time at the coven the previous day that Lilah’s minions would be by early the next morning to pick up the piece, and the Mistress had arranged for Matti *and* Xander to follow the truck and be able to instigate the final plans for Matti’s creation. 

The day was finally approaching and Giles hoped for all of them that the planned ridding of Lilah in their lives would ensue.

 

Part 35

The following day went almost too smoothly, though convincing the ‘delivery boys’ that the sculptor and his apprentice on not only being involved with the meticulously careful loading, but also the unloading and placing the piece in situ, did require a phonecall to gain approval from Lilah. Her priorities lay with planning the spell that evening so dismissed them with a curt, “Yes of course, whatever spins his dial. Be clear, it is to be placed on the third floor, room seven. Once you are finished *everyone* is to leave. Understood?”

The young man, in truth an articles clerk who had ‘not performed’ with true Wolfram and Hart fervor, answered, “Yes Ma’am” then looked over to his compatriot with resignation. “We’d better do a good job or that bitch will have us busted to janitor duty… or worse.” Neither had any doubts as to what she was capable of doing in terms of ‘worse’.

Xander was kissed soundly by Spike, and Matti was afforded his own special blessing and farewell via a sound hug from the Mistress before they started the car and followed the van close. It would be Xander’s task to settle the piece as arranged, and Matti’s to find an appropriate, undetected position for the other piece. The younger man currently firmly held a backpack complete with unveiling material, blessed sand and sculpture in his lap.

On arrival, Xander (and Matti) made quite a fuss regarding the moving and particularly the seating of the piece on the prepared marble stand and its position in the centre of the room. Lilah had arrived just as Xander began to appeal to her minions that they alter the overhead lighting for better effect, waved her vague approval and stalked out satisfied that it mattered not a jot once the spell was done.

It was Matti’s shining hour. He requested the need for a room to organize some light material for an unveiling and needed a table. Not even looking at Xander as he departed, he was relieved to be led into the small storeroom adjoining the statue room. Thanking his guide and checking for any indication of monitoring (apparently once in the bowels of the W&H beast there was little to none), he quickly spread the material on the table, crawled underneath, drew the pentagram and set the statue. 

Matti did cut a large piece from the rather lovely red satin silk, then another from the black he had stashed in his backpack. It had only taken a minute or two, and he had ‘carelessly’ left enough black material on the table to prevent anyone from observing the arrangement underneath from the door. 

Xander and Matti departed soon after draping the lush material over the soon to be revealed statue. And as they drove away, simply… hoped. 

Lilah swept into the room on the hour arranged for the mages to begin their spell, keen to observe and confirm her gift to the Senior Partners and (hopefully) receive a promotion as a consequence. The capture of William the Bloody’s ‘services’ via the same method, after many promises, had definitely put her efforts for furthering her unlife career intentions on the ‘back peddle’. This time she was sure there would be no such error and smiled as she entered the room, encouraged that glasses of various liquids be raised in celebration as she ceremoniously revealed the sculpture to the twenty or so guests. 

“This is the night Drusilla, of the Aurelian line, a vicious, mad vampire who has previously done both credit and pain to Wolfram and Hard, and is currently residing somewhere in South America, will have her essence drawn and now be tied *here* at Wolfram and Hart to this statue. 

“She has, in part worked for, and against, Wolfram and Hart, notoriously killing many of our compatriots when in Los Angeles.” Several of the audience sniggered, having heard the story. “She will provide no more threat after tonight, indeed will be an asset to be exploited, to be called out as needed and confined otherwise. So ladies and gentlemen, I give you Drusilla!”

Glasses were raised, the toast acknowledged, and Lilah nodded pointedly to the five mages ready to proceed.

As Xander and Matti drove at speed back to the coven, the chanting began. Lilah grinned, her audience cheered but what ensued was not what was expected.

From the primary mage a simple statement came as the chanting ceased, “It is done.”

There was no expected flash of light involving the statue, rather there was a strange trail of blue light made a beeline to the storeroom, followed by Lilah letting her glass shatter to the floor as her undead form collapsing in front of the ‘honored guests’. A concerned few ran forward to assist but the body simply disintegrated into a pool of black ooze. They all backed away as the liaison for the Senior Partners made himself known, stepping from the lift with a wide grin on his face.

“Good morning folks, just letting you know, there has been a slight change in plans. Worry not good people, your toast was well placed we have merely captured a different dark essence than was expected.” He looked pointedly at one of the security guards, “There is an artifact in the store room. It’s under the table. Would you be so kind as to recover it and bring it here.”

Lilah’s statue was duly recovered and placed on the central table for the viewing pleasure of the guests *she* had invited. It took her some time to recover her senses and realize what had occurred. Now trapped in the figurine, she had no voice, no ability to convey her distress, and apparently no person in the room that really gave a toss as they all toasted the Senior Partners and all their ventures once more.

Hours later and in private, the liaison Hamilton placed her effigy on a shelf in her own (now previous) office and addressed her directly.

“It does seem you have been outdone... and by the ‘’good guys” but this is not the first time, is it?! Oh don’t get me wrong, the Senior Partners did enjoy your little games, though it seems that company funds have been over spent on your little schemes of late. It’s just that you don’t seem to understand the concept of balance. Anyway, to cut to the chase, your time here has not finished by any means, it’s just so much better that you *observe* your replacement(s) over time, now that you are out of the action.”

Lilah tried her best to answer, thinking of all the ways she would seek revenge on those who had apparently ‘bettered’ her, but was fixed in place with no voice, and realized that this was to be her fate for a rather significant time. She was chilled by the realization. It would be her fate, just as it was her intent for Drusilla, she would be trapped inanimate, until the Senior Partners saw fit for her essence to engage again with the real world. And she knew in that moment, they were timeless, so her own purgatory would not be relieved any time soon.

Hamilton must have known her distress, casually stroked the small statue and ushered in her replacement with a bright smile. 

Evelyn was a brilliant barrister whose life, for the last five years, had deliberately been made a misery by a jealous Lilah. After several promotions she had suddenly been hit with a combination of difficult cases and unexplainable, magically induced and therefore untreatable, ailments - hair falling out until she was all but bald; teeth shattering for no known reason and needing serious work; and a tendency to burst into tears during court that eventually had her sidelined. 

Hamilton gave a knowing grin in the direction of the statue. “It seems that the lovely Evelyn is just one in a long line of imminently capable, prospective high level employees that you have been denying the Senior Partners, interesting that you should feel so inclined to tamper with their wishes, indeed their interests. No matter now.”

A very healthy Evelyn smiled sweetly at the liaison, thanked him, then lifted the statuette and placed it on a shelf in the corner with quiet words, “There bitch. I’m now the one in the room, oh and by the way? Senior Partners want no more to do with the covens. Too high profile and, as you obviously did *not* have notice, balance, so it puts them in a difficult position with Gaia and the Powers That Be, funny how siblings can be so protective huh?” 

She patted the structure on the head, turned it so all Lilah could see was the wall and sniggered, “I’m only the first in here. You’ll last for centuries now. Enjoy.”

……………………………………….

Giles flew down to Spike’s welcoming arm, concerned that the young man (as he now truly was) worried. There had been no word from Xander or Matti, yet the Mistress had indicated all went well. 

The two made their way to the entrance of the coven’s property and waited… and waited. Giles bobbed his head and hoo-ed his concern, then for some unknown reason pushed away for a moment and bared his neck.

Spike was shocked. There was no way he would take from the bird. Apart from anything else their size difference would mean life threatening. 

He stroked the feathers until the ex-Watcher returned to himself, “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer mate, desperate times an’ all, but it’ll be a dark day when I take family. Don’t get me wrong, sure you’re right tasty, but the size difference? And the reason? C’mon mate… Boys will be fine. Tell ya what, let’s us just up foot and go watch some tellie. Reckon that archeology show, Time Team or something or other, will be on and we can wait for the boys yeah?!”

Spike held out his arm, Giles alighted but then was rather touched by the next action. The owl was embraced by his friend, his feathers smoothed and feet hanging without purchase as he was lovingly carried against Spike’s chest toward then inside Xander and Spike’s home. Placed carefully on the settee, Spike then provided several handfuls of raw beef, turned on the television and settled himself to eat a sandwich followed by a beer.

The ex-Watcher had not missed the rather desperate loving kisses afforded *his* Sunnydale boy and the renewed ‘William’ exchanged as Xander arrived late afternoon with the hero of the day Matti, as their own luncheon was served, lovingly prepared. 

Matti took to the workshop, there was still furniture to finish, but was thrilled as a smiling Mistress joined him. He nodded to her and continued to work as she smiled enigmatically. 

It was fitting, they were all safe from any Wolfram and Hart influence, the balance was back. 

The owl departed to his chosen daytime abode. There would no doubt be more challenges ahead for the side of good, but he satisfied himself that Xander and Spike would face them together with the full force of the coven behind them… and accepted for all time that his current form was appreciated, and loved. Who could ask for more?

FINI


End file.
